Obsession
by MadameCissy
Summary: You can hide a face behind a mask but you cannot hide the temptation. When Hermione becomes infatuated with a mysterious woman who cannot remove her mask, her desire slowly turns into an obsession. The thing with obsessions is that they always destroy more than you could ever have imagined and are often deadly. Bellatrix/Hermione
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** You can hide a face behind a mask but you cannot hide the temptation of the human soul. Hermione slips into a world of darkness, desire and deception when she becomes frustrated in her day to day life and finds that there is a side to her she never knew. When she becomes infatuated with a mysterious woman who cannot remove her mask and refuses to tell her who she really is, her desire slowly turns into an obsession. The thing with obsessions is that they always destroy more than you could ever have imagined...

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the affiliated characters. Everything belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros.

**Pairing**: Hermione/Bellatrix as well as Hermione/Narcissa. The way I look at it now I do not intend to add any Blackcest and/or Cissatrix to this story. I fully intend to have this story take a more erotic route than any of my other stories so…. need I say more?

**Rating: **Well, I can't write an erotic story without a future M rating, right?

**Note:** After finishing The Unholy Trinity saga, I had planned not to write any more Bellamione stories but it seems I just cannot help myself. It is so deliciously dark that I just felt compelled to give it another shot.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Running away isn't that easy. The second you walk away, you can't turn back."

As the words rolled from her lips, Hermione Granger stared out into the world. Outside the November rain lashed against the window the small, cosy coffee bar in Kensington. Traffic rushed by and a big red double decker bus stopped across the street. A man and a woman got off. He tried to protect himself from the rain with a newspaper whilst she struggled with an umbrella. A couple of minutes later they were gone.

"Why would you want to run away?"

The sound of the other woman's voice roused Hermione from her thoughts ad she looks up into a pair of soft, coffee coloured brown eyes. Andromeda Tonks is an unlikely companion for her in this Muggle coffee shop but she didn't know who else would be willing to listen to her without judging. Andromeda is more of a stranger than a friend but Hermione has learnt that strangers sometimes make better listeners.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione sighed and leant back in her chair. She tried to smile in an attempt to mask the seriousness of what she had said. "I guess it's just a figure of speech, you know. Like you want something to change but when you come around to actually doing it, you don't because it scares you."

Andromeda narrowed her eyes. When she received Hermione's owl earlier that morning with the request to meet for coffee in the middle of London she had been surprised to say the least. Sure, she knew the Granger girl relatively well but they only ever spoke during parties at the Weasley home. Granted, there was some kind of family gathering at least once a month but Andromeda wouldn't have considered herself to be Hermione Granger's friend.

She'd gotten to know Hermione better in the months after the war had ended. Britain slowly recovered from the terror inflicted by Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the lives of those affected slowly returned to some kind of normal. In the weeks and months that followed, people learnt to cope with the aftermath and the scars of the war. Andromeda herself had to learn to cope with raising her grandson on her own. Having lost her husband, her daughter and her son-in-law had changed her life. She was a parent once again and day after day she was confronted with her daughter's eyes whenever her grandson looked up at her.

"I hear Harry and Ginny are finally making arrangements for their wedding," Andromeda said as she picked up her own cup. From over the rim she observed the subtle changes in Hermione's face and the way her eyes darkened at the word 'wedding' finally gave Andromeda some idea as to why the younger witch had really asked to meet her.

"Hermione, do you want to talk about Ron?" she said softly.

"What?" Hermione looked up, seemingly bewildered. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you asked me to meet you for coffee when you and I barely know each other, besides the obvious, I mean. You normally meet Ginny at least once a week. It just seems that you want to talk about something you can't talk to her about," Andromeda pointed out. "My guess is that it's about her brother."

Hermione covered her face with her hands. "That obvious, huh?"

"Just a little." Andromeda couldn't help but smile. "Listen, if you've decided you don't want to talk…"

"He's just such an oblivious, self-centred, egotistical arse sometimes!"

Andromeda blinked at the sudden outburst. "I guess you _do_ want to talk about it then."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said apologetically. "But I'm just at the end of my tether with him. Some days I wonder what happened to us. He doesn't tell me he loves me. He's always working… I mean, we both have demanding jobs but I at least try to be home from time to time. When he isn't working he's either in the pub with his mates or at a Quidditch match. Sometimes it just feels like I'm married to a teenager, not a man."

"Have you tried to talk to him about this?" Andromeda suggested. "Marriage isn't a one way street, Hermione. It takes two people to make things work."

"I know. I've tried to talk to him but when it comes to conversations like that, Ron is very much… how shall I put this…" She hesitated and picked at her fingernails. "He isn't very good at talking about how he feels, I guess. I get that, it's a man thing. No man is very good at that but sometimes I would like to get a little bit more out of him."

"You got married young," Andromeda pointed out.

She remembered the wedding well. It had only been a few months after the war. They'd barely been nineteen years old. It had felt rushed and for a few weeks Andromeda had expected the announcement of a baby Weasley but when none came she just assumed that it had been the war that made them realise that some things just needed to be done. She remembered how, during the first Wizarding War and the months after, people got married left, right and centre. It seemed this time round it was no different.

"I know," Hermione answered. "Some days I think…."

"Think what?" Andromeda pushed when Hermione didn't answer her sentence.

"Was it too soon?"

Hermione didn't make eye contact. Instead she stared down into her half empty cup of cappuccino. Nobody knew she'd been second guessing herself about her marriage. It had been almost three years since their wedding day but recently she spent more time wondering whether she'd made a mistake than enjoying the fact she was married. She would find herself looking at Ron throughout the night as he slept beside her, realising she missed the best friend she'd once had. She longed for the times where they still laughed and joked, or just talked. All of that was gone now.

"Hermione, does Ron know you've been feeling this way?"

"No."

She said it a little too sharply and quickly looked up to see if she hadn't offended Andromeda. In the three seconds it took for her to remember who she was talking to she was struck once again by how much Andromeda looked like her older sister. Hermione subconsciously covered her lower arm with her hand, although the sleeve of her white jumper covered the scars left behind by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Andromeda cocked her head. She could see the torment etched across Hermione's face and suddenly she felt tremendously guilty for this young woman. She'd spent the last three years just being a casual friend when it seemed that Hermione had just really needed someone who wasn't related to Ron to talk to.

"Have you considered talking to him about it?"

"I've tried a couple of times but he always gets angry. I… I know he must be scared to lose me but what about the way I feel? Ignoring it isn't going to make it go away."

Andromeda chewed the inside of her cheek. "You could try talking to Molly. I know she's her mum but she's a great woman, Hermione. She helped Charlie and Fleur and the others too. She may seem a little nosy from time to time but really, she's done wonders." Her eyes found Hermione's. "She managed to make Remus see how much Nymphadora loved him. If she managed to change his mind, I'm sure she can manage talking to her son."

"Maybe I will," Hermione reluctantly said. "Ron's out tonight. I might go round to the Burrow and see if she's in."

After a pause that seemed to last too long and feel too uncomfortable, Andromeda finally cut through the silence. "Are you going to the Anniversary this year?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure I want to. You?"

"I might."

Every year in May there was an anniversary, celebrating the lives of those who had fought but didn't survive. Every year their names were read out and people would come together to remember the fallen. It was held at Hogwarts, which had been rebuilt to its former glory after the Final Battle. Walking through the castle's corridors brought back more than just the memories of those who had died and Hermione wasn't sure whether she wanted to continue doing it. Ron begged her to go every year and she understood why, he wanted to celebrate his brother's life, but sometimes she thought it was perhaps better to focus on the living then to dwell on the dead.

She looked up at Andromeda, reminded that the woman sitting across the table had lost almost her entire family. She felt guilty for not wanting to go this year but to hear Andromeda admit that there was a chance she would stay away herself eased some of that feeling.

"Ron always makes me go to the Anniversary, because of Fred," she said softly. "I feel like I should go. That if I don't, I somehow don't honour the memory of those who died but…" She swallowed hard. When she felt Andromeda's gaze on her she looked up and their eyes locked. What she saw wasn't judgment. "You know what I mean."

"We honour the dead every day, Hermione. We don't need a yearly reminder for that. I visit Nymphadora, Remus and Ted once a month. I bring flowers or sometimes I just talk. There are months that I forget to go. That doesn't mean I love them any less or miss them any less, it just means that I've started to move on. It's not always good to dwell on the past."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled and glanced at her watch. "I errr… I should probably let you go. Teddy will finish nursery in a few minutes, won't he?"

Andromeda nodded. "Yeah, he does." She stood up from her chair and picked up her coat.

Hermione watched as the older witch put it on. Once again she was struck by the similarities between Andromeda and Bellatrix and the brief flash of what Bellatrix would have looked like in jeans, a jumper and a pair of leather boots got stuck in Hermione's head. She quickly averted her eyes until Andromeda had wrapped her scarf around her neck.

"If you ever want to talk again, Hermione, you know where to find me," she said and patted the younger witch on her shoulder. "My door is always open."

Hermione watched as the older woman left the coffee shop. As the door closed behind her and Andromeda walked past the window before disappearing into a mess of busy London traffic and rain, Hermione stared back down at her cup. She finished it off with one large gulp before standing up, grabbing her coat and quickly putting it on.

She buttoned up, wrapped her scarf around her neck and double checked she had her purse, her phone and her wand, although the latter was withdrawn from Muggle eyes. She smiled friendly at the young barista who had served her the coffee and cast a quick glance at the cover of a newspaper left on a table. More doom and gloom in a world already sinking rapidly into mess of economic downturns and general misery.

When she stepped outside she was caught off guard by the firm wind and unrelenting rain. She cursed under her breath for having forgotten her umbrella and within a matter of seconds she was drenched. She looked left and right before crossing the road without really paying attention to where she was going. Kensington wasn't an area she was very familiar with. She'd chosen it because it was far away from home as well as the Ministry of Magic, minimalizing the chance that anyone saw her with Andromeda.

Wearing her black skinny jeans and cream coloured jumper as well as her trendy coat and fashionable boots, Hermione blended in perfectly with the late afternoon London crowd. The men and women making their way around were a mixture between tourists caught in the bad weather and locals rushing towards home or some wine bar just down the road. Within the next hour rush hour would really start and she hoped to not be stuck on a tube with a ton of grumpy commuters that reeked of a mixture of expensive cologne and wet dog.

She was about to turn around the corner, with the intention of heading straight towards the tube station, when a flickering behind a window on the other side of the street caught her attention. She stood still, looking up in curiosity. Through the heavy rain she saw what looked like the reflection of candles in the window. The door to the building was slightly ajar and there appeared to be a red glow around the entrance. More than anything it drew her attention because the man standing outside was a face she knew. She'd seen him plenty of times inside the Ministry of Magic. His name was Davidson and he was an Auror.

It was difficult to imagine there was a magical establishment away from Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade but that didn't mean it was impossible. After the war, more and more magical places had been created across the city. Some people just preferred to not be part of the magical world as much as they used to, others feared that putting all the magical places in the same spot left them vulnerable to being discovered.

Hermione crossed the road and reached the pavement on the other side. She was now maybe ten feet away from the dark fronted building. She heard music. A low base accented by what she guessed was a violin. It sounded strangely alluring, both mysterious as well as thrilling. She closed the last few meters to the front door and glanced at the Auror standing outside. He looked back at her and from the look in his eyes she could tell that he recognised her. He didn't speak but continued to look straight ahead. Hermione walked past him and pushed against the half open door. It revealed a staircase leading to a lower level. The music grew louder and the light dimmer as she started her descend.

When she reached the bottom step Hermione found another door. She pushed against it and it revealed a large open space behind it. The lights were turned down low and the space lit by candles only, strategically placed around tables, the bar and on the walls. The music was louder here and to her surprise the room was rather full. People sat in leather arm chairs or lay sprawled out over couches. They drank wine or what looked like whiskey. No one looked up when she entered. The atmosphere was relaxed. It wasn't until she entered the bar further that she noticed most of the visitors wore masks, obscuring their faces.

Hermione hesitated. Masks were a Death Eater thing. She was about to turn around when she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. A young man had appeared behind her and he smiled. He didn't wear a mask.

"You must be new here," he said with a smile. "My name is Gregory."

She swallowed. "I'm Hermione."

"Oh, I know who you are."

_Of course you do,_ she thought and her features hardened. E_v__eryone always does._

He held her gaze. It was almost hypnotizing, like he could straight through her. His tantalizing green eyes seemed to reflect something Hermione couldn't quite grasp. His hand slipped from her shoulder to her forearm and he led her to the bar.

"But who you are doesn't matter here."

Hermione turned to look at him but by the time she had turned around, he was gone. She found herself standing by the bar alone and caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirror. A young witch about her own age spotted her and walked over, a smile gracing her dark red lips. She had short black hair and wore a simple black tank top on a pair of jeans. She looked nothing like a witch but Hermione spotted the wand in her back pocket. This girl was definitely a witch and this bar was filled with magic, she could feel it against her skin.

"What can I get ya?" she asked with a strong Irish accent.

Hermione hesitated and inspected some of the bottles lined up behind the bar. It was half past three in the afternoon but in here it felt like it was the middle of the night. Somehow the outside world didn't exist. It wasn't like her to walk into a place she didn't know without a purpose. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd done anything like this at all. She nervously glanced around before eventually looking back at the girl behind the bar. She didn't have anywhere else to be. The flat she and Ron shared in the West End would only be cold and empty.

"The best mead you've got."

"Coming right up," the girl answered and she reached for a silver bottle shaped like a snake on the top shelf before picking a crystal glass big enough to hold at least half the content of the bottle. As she poured the drink she became aware of Hermione watching her and sensed her questions. "You've not been here before, have you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Why are some of these people wearing masks?"

"Because it makes them feel confident," the girl answered and handed Hermione the glass. "When you wear a mask you can be anyone you want to be and no one will ever know any different. In here…" She gestured around the bar and towards the darker corners of the room barely lit by candles. "…All your fantasies and dreams can come true. They're in your hands."

Hermione took the glass of mead and let her eyes drift around the room before selecting an empty corner. Three arm chairs stood placed around a glass table. All three chairs overlooked what she guessed was a dance floor. A single candle stood on the table, casting enough light for her face to be illuminated if she wanted to or to be obscured in shadows.

The mead rose up and splashed against the side of her glass as the sound of the low base filled the dimly lit room. Hermione sat in the comfortable arm chair, her legs draped over the overstuffed arm. The rich black leather was slick. As she sat and let herself become familiar with her new surroundings she could smell the mixture of expensive alcohol, mystery and secrets. Her wine glass skidded between her fingers, and as the dramatic rhythm of the music reached its climax, the glass fell and bounced off the wooden floor.

Before she could reach down to pick it up there was a hand on her knee. It appeared out of nowhere and Hermione's breath hitched. The touch was soft yet warm and spread through her body like a blazing fire, leaving her skin sizzling and her brain briefly incapable of thinking. She blinked and through heavy lidded eyes she looked down into the darkness around her. A figure had appeared at her feet, clutching the shards of broken glass into their palm. The candle light reflected of the silver mask that covered their face and magnificent charcoal eyes stared up at her.

There and then she lost herself. She slipped and fell into a pool of something she couldn't even begin to put into words. It was as if something had suddenly grabbed hold of her and lured her down into another world but before Hermione could open her mouth and speak, the masked figure had once again disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind the glowing feeling across her skin and an unexplainable burning desire between her legs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She didn't quite remember how she made it home but when Hermione stumbled through the door of her West End flat she slammed the door behind her and immediately staggered through the living room towards the bathroom, stripping off her wet clothes along the way. She passed the large clock on the kitchen wall and absentmindedly glanced up at it. She had lost all perception of time and she was surprised to see it was after eleven o'clock.

Her body ached in a way she had never felt it ache before, not even after the intensity of the Final Battle. She felt something in places she didn't know she could feel them and when she reached the bathroom and eagerly switched on the hot shower, a moan escaped her when she stepped under the hot flow of water.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as the water gently rained down on her, rinsing away the sensation of magic lingering across her skin. She had never felt something so strongly before as when she had walked into that bar. The magic had been almost seductive, luring her in without her really realising it. Like a quiet calling, a whisper from the dark, summoning her to come closer. She swallowed hard, still tasting the sweet flavour of the mead on her lips.

"Mione?!"

Her eyes snapped open when she heard Ron's voice. Instantly the warm, smothering feeling she had experienced earlier that night was gone.

"Mione, you home? Why are your wet clothes all over the floor?!"

"Shit," she muttered under her breath and quickly turned the shower off.

The painful throbbing between her legs continued and she grabbed a towel to quickly cover herself up. With it wrapped around her body and her hair still wet she walked out of the bathroom and found Ron in the kitchen. He had just put her wet clothes in the washing machine but looked up when he heard her come in. From the way his eyes narrowed Hermione suspected she was about to receive the third degree.

"Where have you been? Why are your clothes wet?"

"Gees, why would they be wet?" Hermione answered sharply. "In case you haven't noticed, it's raining!"

"When did you get home?" he wanted to know as he switched on the washing machine.

"About fifteen minutes ago."

He looked up. "I thought you were just meeting Andy for coffee?"

"I was but on my way home I ran into a couple of girls from the department and we went for a drink in town." She could tell he was about to ask her where she went but she cut him off. "Some place in Muggle London. None of us fancied being surrounded by wizards for once. All Muggleborns, remember?"

The lie rolled off her tongue with such ease that she even surprised herself. She had never been the type to lie, not even if it was in her own defence, but tonight was different. She didn't feel a shred of guilt and made eye-contact, looking straight into her husband's green eyes. What she saw didn't strike her the same way a set of charcoal eyes had done earlier that night. The memory of them once again set her skin on fire and she felt the warm sensation creep along her leg where the stranger had touched her.

"Anyway, where did you go?" She tried not to sound condescending. "Weren't you supposed to be home early today?"

"Not like you would have noticed," he answered and she ignored the jibe. If she jumped at his throat they would only end up with another argument. "I met up with Harry, Seamus and Dean."

"Cauldron?" she asked and he nodded. She should have known. It was _always_ the Leaky Cauldron. She watched how he opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk. She sighed. "I'm going to bed." She waited but he didn't respond. She had to ask, just for good measure, but she already knew the answer. "You coming?"

"In a bit," he answered without looking at her.

"Don't be too long."

She didn't mean it and turned around before leaving the kitchen. She walked through the corridor to the larger of the two bedrooms and pushed against the door. Her fingers searched the wall for the light switch and once she flicked it the room bathed in a sea of golden light. Her eyes were drawn to the large windows overlooking the city and she crossed the room to draw the curtains. For a few seconds she longingly gazed out at the world beyond the glass and heaved a sigh before withdrawing the scenery from sight. The heavy black curtains slid effortlessly into place and she turned around to the bed.

Hermione dropped her towel and walked around to her side naked before choosing a pair of knickers and pyjama trousers from her drawer followed by a simple vest top. She turned off the light before climbing into bed and inhaled the comforting sent of freshly washed sheets. She rolled onto her back, folded her hands behind her head and stared up into the darkness. As she blinked she saw the flash of the silver mask before her eyes and her breath hitched. Almost instantly the throbbing returned and Hermione bit down on her tongue so hard she could taste blood.

Suddenly she was back in the bar with its sultry, intoxicating atmosphere. Candle light created shadows on the walls she couldn't identify and the music played loudly, pounding in her ears. Her eyes fell shut and she saw the dark eyes behind the mask again, staring up at her with the same intensity they had done in the bar. The desire grew and settled in her chest, leaving her heart racing and her head spinning. When her slender fingers crept across her stomach towards the waistband of her trousers, she knew there was no way back.

She imagined the hand that had rested on her knee for just a few seconds slowly travelling upwards towards her thigh before slipping between her legs, cupping her core insistently. Everything about their touch screamed how much she was wanted, desired. She felt their hands slide along the length of her legs, slowly peeling down her jeans and knickers, revealing just how much a single touch had done to her.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened across her skin as she touched herself. Skilled fingers worked the little button between her thighs with precision, drawing small circles as well as pressing down. Her clothes had already been banished to the floor and the soft cotton of the sheets rubbed against her hardened nipples when her back arched off the bed. The back of her throat had become dry and she bit back the moans of lust and desire, forcing herself to stay as quiet as she possibly could. She writhed and shuddered as the first waves of her orgasm began to rip through her.

Hermione rode out her orgasm, her heart hammering in her chest and blood rushing through her veins. When she finally regained some control over her limbs she slowly rolled onto her side and pulled the sheets around her still trembling body. A faint smile lingered on her lips as she fell into the realm of dreams.

She never heard Ron come to bed.

~()~

The next day was a blur. Hermione woke up before Ron did, took a shower and got dressed. She was already on her second cup of coffee by the time he walked into the kitchen. She gave him a chaste kiss good morning before mumbling something about an important meeting. Before he even had a chance to reply back to her she was already out of the door.

There was more rain in the air, she could smell it. The skies were as grey as they had been the day before and as she reached the nearest tube station, the heavens opened once again. Hermione made her way down the stairs, joining the endless flow of commuters making their way into the heart of the city. She knew it was just as easy to just Apparate into the Ministry but she liked the Muggle way of travel. Every other aspect of her life had been taken over by magic. She didn't want to forget where she came from, how she had grown up. Although Ron thought it useless, Hermione liked living like a Muggle.

She somehow got through her day unscathed although she caught herself several times as her mind began to wander. Not just to what she had done the night before, leaving her body yearning for more, but also to the bar. She didn't even know what the place was called but it kept creeping back into her mind.

It was well after seven o'clock by the time she left the Ministry. Darkness had fallen outside and temperatures had started to drop, indicating that winter was fast approaching. She'd had no lunch and only chewed on a chicken sandwich for her dinner but after three bites she'd thrown it in the bin. She'd been rushed off her feet all day with people wanting something from her left, right and centre. Her day got progressively worse when her assistant reminded her that she had a meeting with some people she'd rather avoid. Narcissa Black had been one of those people.

Hermione had sat across the table from the youngest Black sister with great composure, peering at Narcissa through her eyelashes every few minutes. In the years after the war, Narcissa had divorced Lucius Malfoy and worked her way up in society after her fall from grace. Saving Harry Potter had definitely helped with her reputation and Hermione was still, to this day, surprised that Harry spoke in Narcissa's defence during her hearing. She'd been acquitted, unlike her ex-husband who was serving a life sentence in Azkaban. After that, Narcissa offered her expertise and knowledge on Dark Arts to the Ministry. Her information and skill was invaluable to them and over the last few years Hermione had been part of several meetings with Narcissa, although they never spoke more than a dozen words with each other.

There was something striking about the older witch that left Hermione almost feeling inferior in her presence. She knew very well what Narcissa thought of her. To the aristocratic witch she was still nothing more than a Mudblood. Although times had changed and Narcissa most definitely didn't share her racist views out loud, Hermione knew what the blonde witch thought. This was the woman who had offered her house to Voldemort and although she had defied him in the end, she had waited a very long time to turn her back on him. Hermione was never too sure if she actually really had and although Narcissa was always pleasant to her, sometimes bordering on friendly, Hermione kept her distance.

The meeting with Narcissa Black and several other high profile Ministry people had been the last one of the day and Hermione was glad to finally be leaving the building. She stepped out onto the rainy streets of London and inhaled the scent of rain mixed with car exhaust fumes. Instantly her heart rate quickened and she made her way to the tube station. This had been the one moment of the day she had been looking forward to since arriving at the Ministry earlier that day. As she made her way down the tube station stairs she slowly released the breath she'd been holding. Peak rush hour was over and the trains were a little less crowded this time of night. She even managed to find herself a seat and pretended to read the Evening Standard as the train cut through the dark tunnels towards Kensington.

She left the train with a couple of other people who soon disappeared when she reached the top of the stairs. She stood on the corner of the street, looked around a few times to orientate herself ad then crossed the street. Her senses led her back to the place where she had been the previous night and, when she recognised the candlelight behind the window, her heart leapt up. From where she stood she could finally see the name written across the glass in fine, black letters spelling out the word Imagination.

Hermione smiled to herself before crossing the street. She didn't recognise the man standing outside tonight but he just quickly nodded as she walked past him to begin her descend down the stairs. He didn't ask questions about those who ventured in here at the end of the day, moving through the shadows of the night with their heads bent so no one saw their faces.

The music was louder than the night before and when Hermione stepped through the door she noticed it was more crowded inside too. People, dressed mainly in black, sat and stood around the bar and the seating areas in the corner. Four or five occupied people the dance floor, moving slowly to the alluring beats coming from the speakers. The lights had been turned down low with only candle light illuminating the masked faces. More people wore masks tonight, she noticed, but there were still a handful of visitors who didn't.

"Look who we have here," said a voice behind her and she turned around.

The person behind her wore a stunning silver mask that obscured the right half of his face. It was studded with small, finely cut diamonds and formed a sharp contrast against the sun kissed tones of his skin. Hermione recognised Gregory by his intense green eyes and smiled.

"Hello again."

"You came back."

"I have."

She didn't know what it was about the way he said it. It was almost as if he had expected her to. She searched his face. She had never seen him anywhere else although he was only a few years older than she was. He had to have been at Hogwarts at some point but she didn't remember seeing him.

"What made you come back?" he curiously wanted to know as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her through the crowd towards the bar. People seemed to disperse as he walked by.

"I don't know," Hermione answered. It wasn't exactly the truth but it wasn't a lie either. She knew what had brought her back here, she just didn't know why.

"Like I said," Gregory reminded her and his lips curled up into what could only be described as an almost devious smile. The smile of someone who knew what happened within these shadows. "Here you can be anyone or anything you want to be."

She watched him disappear into the crowd and once he was gone she looked back at the bar. The girl who had served her the previous night was here again and when she saw Hermione she grinned. "The best mead we've got, right?"

"You got it."

Once she had her glass she turned towards the dance floor. Three women and two men were dancing. All wore masks and all were dressed in black. One of the women had long, dark red hair that fell down to her back. The other two women had short cropped dark hair. Their dark jeans clung to their slender bodies and Hermione watched, mesmerized by how their bodies seemed to move in perfect unison.

After a few minutes she picked up her glass from the bar and walked towards the corner of the room where she had sat the night before. Hermione sank down in the comfortable leather chair and placed her feet up on the small table whilst twirling her glass through her fingers. The intoxicating smell of the mead filled her nose. It was the sweetest, most seductive thing she had ever tasted and she knew she wouldn't be able to resist drinking more than just one glass.

"Not the kind of place where I would have expected to find an innocent witch like yourself."

The voice came from the shadows and Hermione sat up with a jolt. Her eyes snapped to her left and she gasped as she watched the shape of a woman appear from the darkness. Clad in a burgundy red dress that cut down deep into her cleavage and her blonde hair cascading down her back, Narcissa Black looked nothing like the stoic, distant woman Hermione had encountered earlier that day. She also noticed Narcissa did not wear a mask, unlike most of the other guests.

Hermione almost dropped her wine glass as her eyes lingered for a moment too long on Narcissa's neckline. She felt her cheeks redden and averted her gaze.

"Miss Black."

"We do not have names here," Narcissa said. The hint of a smile graced her lips. "We have merely faces." Her blue eyes drifted around the crowd, singling out a few who wore masks. "Sometimes we do not even have those. Here we are nothing." Unexpectedly her eyes sought out Hermione's. "Or we are everything."

Hermione didn't get a chance to answer and Narcissa Black had effortlessly disappeared into the darkness once again. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest as she slowly sank back into her chair. She took a large gulp from her mead and felt the alcohol burning down her throat. Gone was the sweetness. Now it tasted like poison. She was about to put the glass down when a movement across the room caught her eye. When she looked up she instantly locked on the figure wearing the silver mask. The length of the room wasn't enough to break their connection. Their eyes found each other.

Hermione stood up and slowly walked her way around the dance floor to the opposite end of the room. More chairs stood around glass tables. Only a few were occupied. Her gaze was transfixed on the spot where she had seen the masked stranger and when she reached the corner of the room she soon found she wasn't alone. A hand found its way up along her arm, slender fingers creeping up past her elbow towards her shoulder. Every feather light touch left behind a sizzling desire.

She couldn't see the strangers face. The mask hid it completely. All she saw were dark eyes, full of fire, reflecting the candle light. The rest of their features went hidden by the silver mask, only leaving the chin and mouth exposed. Hermione's breath hitched when soft fingers reached her collar bone and eventually slipped under her chin. The warm flesh betrayed the touch of a woman.

"I don't know who you are," Hermione breathed as she stepped closer to the woman. Their bodies were almost pressed flush against each other. She felt the swell of the stranger's breasts against her chest.

Dark eyes found Hermione's brown. "Nobody knows who _we_ are."

"Everybody knows who I am."

"Not here, they don't. Here we are nobody. We are shadows, imaginations. We are…" Soft fingers caressed Hermione's cheek. "Everything." She then took Hermione's hand and began leading her deeper into the shadows. When the brunette hesitated she turned around. She sensed the reasons without Hermione needing to speak. "You're afraid."

"I am…"

"Don't be."

"But…"

"Don't be afraid. Just _be_."

Hermione let go of her fears and allowed the masked stranger to lead her away from the dance floor. The beat still echoed in her ears as she grabbed a firmer hold of the woman's hand. She didn't know who she was or where they were going but for the first time in her life, she truly didn't care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Hermione had never felt so intoxicated in her whole life. The alcohol from the mead had seeped into her veins, lacing itself with her blood. It took away whatever restraints she had and she felt herself slip into a comfortable state of freedom without restraints. The darkness around her felt comforting and the touch of the masked stranger's hand left her skin burning in its wake. It stirred something inside her she didn't even know she could feel. Never before had she been so hungry for a single touch.

When her back was pressed against the cold wall behind her she felt no panic. Her breath hitched as she watched the masked face approach from the shadows, their lips now so close she could smell the sweetness of alcohol on their breath. The woman's voice was dulcet and alluring, dragging her deeper into the oblivion of desire she felt in the depths of her stomach.

Suddenly there were warm lips against her own. Hungry, seeking for something Hermione didn't know. Her body responded instinctively and her arms wrapped around the stranger's back. Their hair was long and as black as the night itself. She effortlessly ran her fingers through the silky locks, pulling her companion deeper into the searing kiss. Tongues fought for control and Hermione groaned when she felt the woman take charge.

"In these shadows we are everything," the stranger breathed into her ear.

Hermione's heart pounded so fast in her chest that she felt like it was about to burst free from its prison. Her mouth attacked the exposed skin of her lover's neck, biting down on the soft flesh just below her ear. She felt her companion's heart racing underneath the tip of her tongue. The unexpected shift in her breathing betrayed her arousal.

"Who are you?" Hermione managed to bring out as she felt her lover's tongue circle the small patch of skin below her throat. Nobody had ever paid that much attention to it but she relished in the feeling it gave her.

"Whoever you want me to be."

She didn't ask any more questions. Even if she had wanted to, she would have been unable to speak. Her head fell backwards as she felt warm hands creep below her shirt, pulling it out of her trousers, Buttons were ripped off the fabrics was it was torn from her skin, revealing the yearning flesh beneath. Long, black nails scratched across her abdomen towards her chest before hooking behind her bra and freeing her breasts. The back of Hermione's throat became dry as her nipples hardened.

She had never before even entertained the thought of cheating on her husband but now it was all she wanted. Every fibre of her being yearned to be touched by this other woman. She didn't care who she was. She didn't even care where she was. The ladies toilers in a bar in the middle of London, illuminated only by candles and smelling strongly of alcohol and strongly scented soap was not a place where she had expected to feel this way but here she was, her back pressed against the wall as a masked stranger teased her nipple with her tongue.

Hermione's fingers threaded her lover's hair as the woman kissed herself a way across her chest, caressing both her nipples with the tip of her tongue before continuing her journey, leaving not a single part of her burning skin untouched. She kissed her way down through the valley between her breasts towards her stomach, dipping her tongue slyly into her belly button. She only stopped when she reached her jeans and Hermione looked down at her. From behind the silver mask, dark lustful eyes stared back up at her. Her heart hammered in her chest as her lover slowly unzipped her jeans.

The dark haired stranger peeled the fabric down far enough to reveal Hermione's simple yet elegant white knickers. They were damp and the smell of her arousal was undeniable. A deep grunt escaped her when the woman cupped her core in one firm move, pressing a finger harshly against the cotton of her panties. Hermione's teeth sank into her lower lip.

Without warning the woman's fingers slid behind the damp cotton and encountered the hot wetness waiting for her there. Hermione's arms snaked around her lover's back, pulling her closer. First one then a second finger slid deep inside of her and Hermione bit down on the woman's shoulder. For a brief moment they both allowed Hermione to get used to the feeling of the woman's fingers inside of her but then she began to thrust, curling her fingers as she did so.

Hermione's eyes rolled back into her head. The woman's free hand supported her around her lower back, keeping her firmly in place against the wall, but she managed to hook her own legs around her lover's body. The thrusting continued, faster and harder as the minutes began to pass. Searing lips kissed any piece of exposed, desired skin they could find. When they finally came together in a searing kiss, Hermione whimpered into the other woman's mouth. Never before had she felt such lust and desire.

It ravaged her like a wildfire. The flames erupted inside of her, burning away whatever resistance she had. They overwhelmed her, reducing her to nothing more than ashes in her lover's hands. All there was in that moment were their two bodies, two hearts beating together as one. She could see the weak candle light reflecting in her lover's mask, recognised the unadulterated lust in their eyes.

When the first wave of her orgasm hit, Hermione's nails buried themselves deeply into the other woman's shoulders. Her walls clenched and tightened around her fingers and her body shuddered and shivered. A loud, almost primal, grunt escaped her followed by an outcry of delight. Her body erupted into a sheer firework of pleasure and she held on to her lover for dear life as she slowly rode out the waves of her desire.

Before she truly had a chance to gather herself, the cold wind made her shiver. Her eyes, almost closed, opened just enough to see she was now alone in the darkness. Gone was the silver mask, the strong scent of the woman's perfume and the deep, lustful moans that had filled her ears until now. There was only silence. She was alone.

"Shit."

Hermione sighed the word to herself as she readjusted her underwear and pulled her jeans back up. She was still pulsating between her thighs and her knickers were damp. Her muscles protested against the movement, preferring to just sit on the floor. She turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her mascara had run down her cheeks, almost as if she had been crying, and a fine sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.

She switched on the tap over the sink and splashed some of the cold water in her face. She washed away the black mascara smudges across her cheeks and when she looked back up at herself in the mirror she saw a different person. Staring back at her was a woman who had betrayed her husband and had allowed herself to be seduced by a stranger whose face she had not seen. All she remembered were the dark eyes mirroring her own desires. The thought alone set her skin back on fire and Hermione cursed under her breath.

"What's happening to me?" she wondered out loud.

She spun around when the door to the ladies toilet opened. The sound of high heels clicking against the floor betrayed someone was coming and she had only just managed to button up what was left of her blouse when a figure appeared in the mirror behind her. Hermione met Narcissa Black's blue eyes and felt her heart skip a beat.

The blonde witch's cheeks were flushed, as if she had rushed into the toilet, and her dark lips slightly parted. Her intense eyes were fixed on Hermione and the young brunette could tell that Narcissa's gaze lingered on the cleavage she showed now that the buttons were missing. She only just managed to cover her white bra.

"Miss Granger." Narcissa said it respectfully. It seemed that the way she had addressed Hermione earlier, the disdainful look etched across her face, had disappeared.

Hermione turned away from the mirror, now looking at Narcissa directly. "Miss Black."

It was evident that Narcissa understood what had happened between these walls. The way her eyes travelled from Hermione's toes up to her face, once taking in the sight of her torn clothes, left little to nothing to the imagination. Hermione swallowed hard. She would never have dared to think that one day she would be asking for Narcissa Black's discretion. She opened her mouth to speak but the older woman shook her head.

"We do not speak of it," she said quietly.

In the dim candle light of the small room she seemed so much younger, Hermione thought. The faint lines that had started to form around her eyes were almost invisible. The deeper ones, cut out by the war and living under the rule of Lucius Malfoy, seemed more refined. It seemed the demons had been chased from her eyes. The golden gloom highlighted the platinum tones of her hair and complimented her eyes. Narcissa Black was a witch who looked better in the shadows of the night than she did in daylight simply because in the darkness she seemed to come to life.

Hermione gave a quick jerk with her head, severing the eye contact. "Very well."

She started for the door but turned when Narcissa called her name again. Now almost swallowed up by the shadows in the small room, Hermione struggled to even make out the blonde witch's face at all.

"Allow me my curiosity, Miss Granger, but how does a witch of your…" Narcissa seemed to search for the right word. "…composure…" Another pause and suddenly icy blue eyes captured brown. "…find herself in a place like this?"

Hermione lifted up her head with pride. What had lured her into these shadows wasn't something she quite understood but she'd be damned if she allowed Narcissa Black to judge her for it.

"I guess I could ask you the same thing," she said slowly. The tone of her voice left room for interpretation and the flickering in her eyes invited Narcissa to challenge her.

Narcissa silently accepted the challenge and merely gave a curd nod. Somehow her blue eyes did not let go of Hermione and she stepped out of the shadows. The burgundy fabric of her dress was a sharp contrast against the porcelain tones of her skin and the candles only highlighted just how well fitted the dress really was. With what could only be described as seduction in her voice, Narcissa answered, "Perhaps we will find both our answers eventually, Miss Granger."

The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched and she opened the door. "Perhaps."

She left the ladies toilets and found her way back through the dark corridors by following the sound of th beat. Her eyes danced around, looking for something or someone she recognised. She desperately searched the masks of those present for the one she knew. None of the eyes looking back at her belonged to the woman who had shared the shadows with her and Hermione's heart sank whilst at the same time she was overwhelmed by the desire to search for the masked woman even if it took her to the end of the world.

She pushed herself a way through the crowd that had gathered on the dancelfoor. Hot, sweaty bodies that moved to the beat of the music were pressed up against her, only adding to the sudden surge of rage she felt building up inside of her. People dispersed as she made her way past, shaken by the anger flashing across her face and the force she used to push them aside, and she walked towards the door. When she finally had reached the top of the stairs she inhaled the fresh air. It had started to rain and the streets of London were glistening in the sinister glow of the street lamps.

Hermione stepped out onto the street and looked up to the sky. Clouds hid the millions of the stars. There was no moon tonight. She pushed her hands into her pockets, coming to the realisation that she had no coat. A cold shiver crept down her spine as she began to walk into the direction of the tube station. Once she made her way down the several flights of stairs and made sure there were no Muggles around to see her she drew her wand, which she kept in a pocket of her jeans hidden away from prying eyes, and used a quick spell to transfigure her ripped and torn shirt into a coat.

When she reached the abandoned platform and checked the board to see how long it would take before the next train arrived, Hermione slowly became aware of her rapidly beating heart. She was out of breath and her body ached. It silently reminded her of what had happened, what she had done. She threw her head back, her brown curls cascading down her back, and covered her face with her hands.

"What have I done?" she whispered to herself. "What in Merlin's name have I done?"

She hadn't cared in the moment but now she cared. Now she felt the betrayal stick to her skin, etched across her face. She would have to go home and look into her husband's eyes, knowing that she had cheated on him. Her lips had kissed someone else, her hands had roamed the body of someone who wasn't her husband. The body of a woman.

"Oh God." Hermione groaned. "Why?!"

But as she looked up to the sound of the train appearing from the dark tunnel, she knew why. She tried to shake the feeling as she stepped into the train and sat down by the window but she couldn't. She stared through the dirty glass out onto the platform and her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the dark clad figure at the far end, almost withdrawn from sight. Tall and slender, dressed in black, arms falling alongside their body. They stood motionless, their face hidden by a silver mask and charcoal eyes fixed on the train as it was about to depart.

In a brief flash Hermione was back in Malfoy Manor, years ago. Suddenly she looked back up into the face of a woman who had scarred her for life. Intense black eyes had stared down at Hermione from above, much like a predator about to devour its prey. Everything about Bellatrix Lestrange had been animalistic. She'd acted like a monster, attacking those who had no way of defending themselves. The sickest of all creatures that had no regard for feelings or emotions of others.

Hermione's eyes snapped back to the figure on the platform. The masked woman was gone. She heaved a sigh as she tried to erase the memory and the piercing black eyes from her mind. Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. That part of her life was over.

She caught a glimpse herself in the window as the train sped off into the next tunnel. There was nothing but darkness now. In the artificial light of the tube train Hermione could see the deep purple bruise along her neck. She shuddered at the thought of how it had got there and tore her eyes away from the window, staring down into her lap instead. She fingered her wand in her jeans pocket, desperate to cover the mark left behind by her escapade.

Slowly she peeled back the sleeves covering both her arms. Red scratches covered her skin, finger marks around her wrist where her masked lover had held her to the wall. But it was the mark on her left arm that drew her attention. The fine silver scars spelling out the word mudblood in an almost childlike handwriting were now covered by a large, purple bruised bite mark. Her breath hitched as she circled the bruise with her fingers. She'd been marked all over again.

~()~

Somewhere deep in the London nights, in an alley no one even knew existed, a lone figure ground their way through the darkness. They knew these side roads well. The sound of their footsteps was muffled by the sound of pouring rain. In the distance thunder rumbled and they took a moment to look up to the ink black sky. A storm was coming tonight.

They stopped walking when they reached a narrow wooden door on the side of an old building. A single tap against the handle made the door swing open, revealing a dark corridor. The figure stepped inside, closing the door behind them. A firm flick of the wand instantly lit all the candles and the room bathed in golden light. Now the sound of their boots stomping against old fashioned wooden floorboards echoed as they crossed the room.

On the opposite wall hung a large mirror with an old fashioned golden frame. As the figure approached they laid eyes on their own reflection. The silver masked hid all the features that made a person human, leaving free only the mouth and chin. Dark eyes flickered to the picture stuck to the wall next to the mirror. An old print out of the Daily Prophet, dated May 3rd 1998, it announced the death of feared Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange.

A horrific outcry of pain filled the room and the woman im the mask pulled the picture of the wall. She tore it in half before looking down at the pieces in her hand. This is what she had become.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The door to the flat slammed shut behind her. The sound echoed along the otherwise quiet building and Hermione held her breath. In her chest her heart pounded so fast that she almost believed it was about to break free from its cage. The sound of footsteps betrayed that the unexpected slamming of the door, courtesy of the strong and bitter cold wind outside, had woken the only other resident in this house and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron's voice was sharp and demanding.

Hermione's eyes opened and she looked up at her husband. He wore a pair of grey jogging trousers and a simple white t-shirt. His hair was wet and she could smell the faint scent of his shower gel.

"Out."

The answer was flat and unsatisfactory. She knew he wouldn't accept it.

"Out?" he questioned. "It's ten past eleven. What do you mean, out?"

She sighed. "One of my meetings ran late." She looked away, severing the eye contact. The lies burnt on the tip of her tongue but at the same time it was so easy, so delightfully easy. "We continued it over dinner and I must've lost track of time." Still she didn't look up at him. "I should have called, or sent an owl. I'm sorry."

"You continued a meeting over dinner?" Ron asked as he stepped aside so she could walk into the living room. "What kind of meeting was this?"

"The kind that involves Narcissa Black," Hermione answered.

She remembered the blonde witch dressed in her figure revealing dress, surrounded by shadows. The sultry tones of her voice still rang in Hermione's ears and with that memory came the flashbacks of what had happened in the bar. Eager hands roaming across her body, exploring her in a way that Ron had never done. Instantly the fire in the pit of her stomach was ignited again, slowly burning her up from the inside out.

Slowly she turned around and watched the disgust spread across Ron's face now that she had mentioned Narcissa's name. Anything associated with the Malfoy's was something Ron disapproved off, no matter how much things had changed. Lucius was doing his time in Azkaban but his son Draco had at least tried to become a better and more decent human being. He hadn't gone through the same changes his mother had and Hermione definitely had no dealings with him but he had tried to clean up the dirt associated with his last name.

Ron crossed his arms in front of his chest and eyed his wife up with a look that displayed the purest contempt. "Narcissa Black asked you out for dinner?"

"Not just me, Ronald. She asked everyone to continue the meeting over dinner." Hermione had walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewed the lid and downed the content with a large gulp. "And you know Narcissa. You don't say no to her."

"So that's all this is?" he wanted to know.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Merlin, Ron. Please tell me we are not having this conversation _again_!"

"C'mon, Hermione…"

"No," she said dismissively. "I will _not _accept you accusing me of staying out late while you get to go out with your mates every weekend and enjoy the Quidditch. You come home a god knows what time in the morning. You don't see me calling you every hour, asking what time you're home. Hell, I don't even complain when you come home drunk." Adrenaline rushed through her veins and she stared at him, wide eyed. "I am not your property, Ronald."

He seemed taken aback by her sudden outburst and his face fell. Whether it was because she had startled him or whether it was because he realised that he had no right to talk to her the way he did, she didn't know. But he took a step towards her, something else now flickering in his eyes. When his hands came to a rest on her hips she looked down at them. They were nothing like the hands that had touched her earlier. His thumbs pressed down, caressing her. A shudder travelled down her spine.

"Now that you're home though…," he whispered into her ear. His breath smelt of spearmint toothpaste and a very distant hint of Butterbeer. He pulled her closer and even through her clothes she could feel his erection. He buried his face in her neck, kissing the pulse point below her ear.

His lips weren't the soft, bruising ones that had kissed her there only hours earlier. Ron couldn't see through the magical spell that masked the bruises and the marks across her skin and Hermione felt her stomach turn when his hands crept across her stomach. She writhed herself away from him and started for the kitchen door.

"Not tonight." She tried not to make it sound like a rejection but when she looked over her shoulder she knew it was too late. His eyes reflected what his face tried to hide. She heaved a sigh and forced herself to smile, hoping it would somehow ease some of the hurt. "I errr… I need to shower."

She left him in the kitchen and fled to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, something she didn't normally do. She switched on the shower and stripped off, dumping her clothes in the laundry basket in the corner after taking her wand from her back pocket. She flicked it, erasing the magic that covered her bruises. Now that the Beauty Charm was gone Hermione turned to the mirror and was faced with the true marks left behind by her infidelity.

Once in the shower she washed away the lingering scent of erotic perfume and the smell of another woman across her skin. She scrubbed so hard until her flesh was red raw. It didn't matter how much soap she used, she couldn't erase the fire left behind where soft hands had touched her. Even as she stood in the shower she couldn't deny the heat pooling between her thighs. It was as if something had been started inside of her, something that would slowly drive her to the brink of insanity and there was nothing she could do to change it.

After an eternity under the warm flowing water Hermione stepped out of the shower, covered her bruises with the Beauty Charm and wrapped a towel around herself before padding across the flat to the bedroom. She softly pushed against the door and peered behind it. The room was shrouded in darkness but she could make out the shape of her husband's body in the bed.

She dropped the towel and slipped under the sheets. They felt cold against her skin and her eyes fell shut when Ron rolled over and noticed that she was naked. When she felt his hands start a familiar journey from her shoulders towards her hips she let herself succumb to motions and what was expected of her. When he slipped inside of her she clenched her jaw and wrapped her arms around his neck. She never looked up at his face and stared into the shadows of the room, thinking solely of charcoal eyes flickering behind a silver mask.

~()~

The elevator doors closed only a couple of seconds after she stepped inside. Three wizards and two witches had gotten off on her floor but Hermione was on her way down to one of the lowest levels of the Ministry building. It was where the vault where. Inside those vaults they kept their magical objects confiscated during various searches as well as items that had been taken from Death Eaters after the war. Unbeknownst to the rest of the magical world, some of the items stored inside the vaults were so powerful that they could start as well as win a war.

Only a handful of people knew about its existence. There was the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It had been Kingsley who appointed a handful of people trustworthy enough to deal with the items. Hermione was one of them. Harry was one of the others, as he was in charge of all the Aurors. As far as Hermione was aware, all dealings with the objects went through her. Once Harry found out that the Resurrection Stone had been recovered from the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, he had made a point of telling Hermione he intended to never go down there. She didn't blame him.

With a soft 'ping' the elevator doors slid open, revealing a long and dark corridor lit only by silver torches. Hermione stepped out of the elevator onto the black marble floor. The walls were cut from the same black marble, creating a dazzling sigh as the golden flames from the torches reflected off the surface. She smoothed out of the creases in her pair of pinstriped trousers and listened how the sound of her high heels bounced off the walls.

She'd taken only taken a few steps when she recognised the sound of a second set of footsteps. They were coming towards her. Instantly her hand shot down to her wand and she fingered it, ready to draw it if provoked. Her hazel eyes narrowed as she stared down the dark corridor. In the distance hse could make out the faint shape of a person coming towards her.

"Miss Granger."

She knew that voice. She had heard it only the night before and it brought an unexpected shiver down her spine.

Narcissa Black appeared from the darkness, her platinum blonde hair highlighted by the golden flames. Crystal blue eyes fixed on the young witch and dark red lips were pursed together to form the tiniest of smalls.

Hermione let her breath escape. Narcissa was the other person authorised to be down here. In an unexpected move Kingsley had granted her permission after she was hired by the Ministry. Hermione had questioned him at the time but she had to agree that Narcissa's knowledge of Dark Magic was invaluable to the Ministry. She was able to recognise objects as dangerous that others would perceive as harmless and her skills had proven useful in recent years.

"Miss Black." Hermione tried to mask the tremor in her voice. "You startled me."

They looked at each other in silence. The darkness and the torches around them created a similar atmosphere as the moment where their paths had crossed the night before. Hermione's gaze dropped from Narcissa blonde hair, flowing freely and wavy down her shoulders, to her shoulders. She was dressed in a simple but effective black dress that reached down to her knees. A white belt sat around her waist. The sight left Hermione breathless. She was still not used to seeing Narcissa in Muggle clothing.

"Am I keeping you, Miss Granger?" Narcissa inquired when Hermione didn't speak.

She shook her head. "No," she stammered, suddenly feeling flustered. "No, I just wasn't expecting to see you down here."

Narcissa cocked her head. "It seems we both have a habit of running in to each other in unexpected places."

Hermione swallowed hard. Her throat was suddenly unexplainably dry. Hazel eyes found blue. What she saw in them she couldn't describe. Amusement, perhaps. Narcissa's voice was as soft and sultry as it had been the previous night and Hermione found herself inexplicably drawn to it.

"Perhaps we do," she replied. The initial surprise and nerves had vanished. Her voice was strong and lifted her chin up in confidence. "What brings you down here?"

"I received an owl from the Minister earlier this morning about something that needed my attention," Narcissa answered. Her blue eyes didn't let go of Hermione's and her piercing stare fixed the brunette to the spot. She took a step closer. Hermione could tell there was something she wated to say and she had no doubt that it had something to do with the events from the previous night. Narcissa seemed to hesitate and then changed her mind. A faint smile spread across her face.

"I shall leave you to your business, Miss Granger."

She filed past the younger witch to step into the elevator but Hermione spun around.

"Wait."

Narcissa curiously turned around. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione had never corrected Narcissa when she called her Miss Granger, even if she was married to Ron. She knew Narcissa knew that too. Her wedding had been broadly measured out in the Daily Prophet as well as Witch Weekly and goodness knew what other magazines. Somehow it was comforting to hear her own last name. She had insisted on using it, much to Ron's disappointment.

"About last night…"

Narcissa's features hardened. "We do not speak of it, Miss Granger."

"I know." Hermione quickly stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut. Now she and Narcissa were confined to the small space and she could smell the older woman's perfume. "There is, however, something I need to know."

Narcissa seemed to consider her request and then gave a quick jerk with her head. "Very well."

"What you saw last night…" Hermione didn't finish her sentence and waited for Narcissa to indicate that she knew what she was talking about. The glint in her blue eyes told Hermione everything she needed to know. "I ask only for your discretion."

Narcissa suddenly chuckled and stepped closer to Hermione, effectively trapping her between the wall of the elevator and her body. Predatory eyes searched the younger woman's face as devious red lips curled up into a smile. Unexpectedly her hand caressed Hermione across her arm up towards her shoulder before fingering a strand of brown hair.

"Of course, Miss Granger," Narcissa softly whispered into her ear. "But I will expect something in return."

Hermione swallowed hard. It seemed that Narcissa's touch had the same poisonous effect on her as the touch of the masked stranger the previous night. "Name your price."

"I'll let you know in due time," Narcissa replied and stepped away from Hermione.

The elevator doors opened again. They hadn't moved and Hermione backed out onto the corridor, her eyes lingering on Narcissa. The blonde witch leant against the wall and Hermione looked on as the doors shut, eventually withdrawing Narcissa from her sight. Once she was gone she turned around, her heart racing, and started down the corridor. The sound of her high heels against the marble floor echoed as she walked along.

She spent most of her day down in the basement of the Ministry, going through some of the recently collected artefacts. Most of them had already been catalogued but there were a few who had yet to be added to the growing collection. Hermione found comfort in the solitude and silence of her work. She tried to be down here at least once a week, away from dozens of people who had questioned they needed to jave answered. It was on days like this she got around to arranging her own thoughts. Peace and quiet anywhere else was difficult to come by.

But today there was no peace inside her mind. Her thoughts continued to disrupt her work, forcing her to put down the artefacts she was inspecting out of gear she would break or otherwise damage them. She couldn't stop thinking about the masked stranger, the one who had brought her pleasure like she had never felt before. Even a single thought was enough to leave her heart blazing and her skin glowing. The desire grew stronger with every passing hour and she began looking down at her watch, desperately waiting for the hours to pass. Once darkness fell outside she could slip out into the world again, disappear in the shadows.

An unexpected knock on the door made her look up. It was just after three o'clock and Hermione put down the diamond studded bracelet she had been inspecting. It would poison anyone who touched it with bare hands. The door to the small office she was working in opened and she recognised Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Good afternoon, Kingsley," she smiled as he entered. "What can I do for you?"

"Is it safe?" was his first question.

"As long as you don't touch this, then yes," she answered. She gestured to the only other chair. "Have a seat. I must say I wasn't expecting to see you down here today. Sorry about the mess."

Kingsley sat down and looked around the small room. It was no bigger than a box room, large enough to contain a desk, a filing cabinet and a couple of chairs. The rest of the corridor was taken up by vaults but this was the room where whoever worked with the artefacts made their notes and did the initial inspection. Paperwork littered Hermione's desk in a way that would seem disorganised to anyone else but her.

"I asked around the Department and they said I'd find you down here today," Kingsley answered. "Isn't this the second time this week?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush red. "I just wanted to make sure I caught up with myself," she answered. She didn't want Kingsley to know she was hiding out down here because upstairs there was Ron. He had a habit of popping in and asking her to join him for lunch. "The last time I was down here I didn't quite get to finish so…"

"It's good you're down here," Kingsley said. The tone os his voice was serious. "There's something I need you to look at."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What is it?"

"A book."

Hermione leant back in her chair and studied the Minister's face. "Something tells me this isn't an ordinary book."

"No," he answered. "It most definitely isn't."

Her curiosity had been triggered. "So what is it?"

"The Book of the Dead."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

Kingsley rubbed his forehead with a pained expression. "You'll understand what I'm talking about when I see it. When Narcissa gets here I'll explain it to both of you."

"Narcissa?" Hermione questioned. Her heart skipped a beat. "What's Narcissa got to do with this?"

"She's the best expert on Dark Magic we've got, Hermione," Kingsley answered and his eyes met hers. "I want you and her to work together on this." He looked at her, searching her face. "Do you think you can manage that?"

Hermione sighed and remembered her earlier encounter with Narcissa.

"Yes, sir," she answered with a faint smile. "I think I can manage that,"

"Good. This is between you and her, alright? Nobody else knows about this." His piercing eyes found hers. "Not even Ron, you hear me?"

Hermione detected the worry and fear in his voice. Although his face remained stoic she could tell that he was worried. She leant across her desk, ignoring the poisonous bracelet in front of her. "Exactly how bad is this, Kingsley?"

He looked down at his hands. "As bad as it gets."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The small box room was barely big enough for three people and the walls seemed to be closing in on her more and more as the minutes began to pass. Kingsley had claimed the only other chair in the room and Narcissa leant against the wall, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes fixed on the Minister of Magic. She'd arrived ten minutes ago and barely glanced at Hermione when she entered the room. Ever since then, the brief second of fleeting eye contact, she hadn't looked at Hermione again.

Hermione found her eyes constantly drawn back to Narcissa. Their encounter earlier in the elevator still lay fresh in her mind and the hairs in the back of her neck rose up when she remembered the blonde witch's voice whispering softly in her ear. Underneath the desk she clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to pay attention to what Kingsley said.

"What I am about to tell you doesn't leave this room," Kingsley said and his dark eyes looked from Narcissa to Hermione. "No one other than you is to know about this."

"I understand," Hermione nodded.

Kingsley looked back at Narcissa and she merely nodded. He then sat up and folded his hands in his lap. "How much does either of you know about the Book of the Dead?"

Hermione had to admit she had never heard of it until today but Narcissa's head almost instantly snapped up. Her piercing blue eyes fixed on Kingsley and the arms that had been folded across her chest suddenly dropped alongside her body.

"So you've heard about it?" Kingsley drew his conclusions from Narcissa's reaction.

"I have," she admitted. "However its existence has always been questioned even by those who believe they know the story well."

Kingsley nodded. "Until recently there were only legends. There was no proof." He swallowed hard. "There is now. The Book is real."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "Real?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I'm sorry but would you mind filling me in on the story behind this book?" Hermione asked as she pushed herself up out of her chair and instead perched herself on her desk. She couldn't keep still. "I'm afraid I am rather unfamiliar with the legend."

"That's no surprise, Miss Granger," Kingsley answered. "The Book of the Dead is considered to be one of the darkest magical artefacts known to our world. In fact, because its existence was disputed as well as feared, it isn't mentioned in any history book either here or at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded. "Unlike the Deathly Hallows, which were mentioned in a children's book."

"Exactly. The Hallows can be used for both good and evil, depending in whose hands they were to fall. The Book of the Dead only has one side and one side only. A dark one. For many years it was both desired as well as feared within our community. There were stories but nobody had ever seen the Book or believed it was even real."

"What is its purpose?" Hermione wanted to know.

"It allows a person to save someone else from death by making a terrible sacrifice," Kingsley answered. "The magic within that Book overrules Death itself but it comes at a price. A price so terrible most people wouldn't be willing to pay it but there are those who would want to cheat Death. The magic used is abhorred in most cultures."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "So this book allows immortality?"

"It allows something much worse," Narcissa said slowly. There was something haunting about the tone of her voice. "It allows a person to live when they should be dead."

"How?" Hermione asked with a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Once someone's dead there's no way to bring them back. Not even the most advanced magic has ever succeeded in bringing back the dead."

Kingsley nodded. "The thing with the Book is that it only contains two spells. The first one is meant for one person to bring another back to life. Like a loved one. The second one is the one where the person makes a deal with Death beforehand and when that time comes, the person in question pause the price they set and Death will spare them."

"What kind of price?" Hermione wanted to know.

"A price that cannot be expressed in the value of money," Narcissa answered. Her eyes had darkened and she appeared to be staring at a spot on the wall. "Whoever makes the deal with Death has to make a sacrifice. They get to live the remainder of their life but at a cost."

"What?" Hermione pushed. "What kind of cost?!"

"They can never be who they once were. Death either takes their soul or their face, leaving them trapped within our world. They are alive but yet to everyone they are dead. They live but they are not really part of it."

Hermione gasped softly. "They're basically a ghost. A shell of who they used to be?"

"It is a heavy price to pay to cheat Death. They can never go back to their old life. They're doomed."

Hermione's eyes darted back to Kingsley. "Where did you find the Book?"

"This is where it gets really strange," the Minister answered. "It was found in the Forbidden Forest."

"Hogwarts?!" Hermione exclaimed. "The Book was found at Hogwarts?!"

Narcissa looked at Kingsley and held his gaze a little too long. Her face showed little to no emotion and when he eventually looked away she breathed in through her nose. "I know what you're thinking, Minister."

"I doubt that, Narcissa."

"Many items have been found in the Forbidden Forest since the end of the war. The Resurrection Stone for one," Narcissa pointed out. "Most if not all of those items were lost there during the Battle. If you're saying you found that Book in the Forest then someone had it on them during that fateful night. You and I both know how small the group of potential candidates is."

Kingsley had to admit that what the blonde witch said was what he had been thinking. "We don't know if it was anyone during the Battle, Narcissa. For all we know the Book could have been hidden there for decades, only coming to light now that we're looking for missing items from the war."

"Did you ask Dumbledore?" Hermione wanted to know. "He knew about the Hallows all along. Could he have known about the Book?"

"He knew about the possibility of its existence but he didn't know it was so close to the castle," Kingsley replied. "I'm not ruling out the chance that it was brought there during the Battle but we have to think about the possibility of it having been there for years."

"Where is it now?" Hermione asked softly.

"In a vault at the end of this floor. Nobody knows about it other than the three of us. I have placed a Fidelius Charm on it. The three Secret Keepers are in this room." Kingsley looked at the two witches. "If anyone were to get their hands on this book, they could bring back anyone they wanted. I am less concerned about someone being stupid enough to make a deal with Death themselves but the thought of the book ending up in the wrong hands…"

"Voldemort," Hermione guessed Kingsley's thoughts. Her eyes darted to Narcissa. She'd flinched at the mention of the dark wizard's name. The reaction surprised her. She looked back at Kingsley and noticed that, even after all this time, the mention of the name had the same effect on him too. "You're worried someone may try to bring him back."

"That's one possibility."

Narcissa lifted up her head. "So what do you want us to do?"

"Inspect the book. Discover its secrets. See if there's anything we can learn from it." Kingsley looked at the two witches. "Never remove it from the vault. It is to stay there all times. Never work alone. You work together or you do not work at all."

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

"The vault will open at the touch of your hand," Kingsley said as he stood up. He walked to the door and turned around before leaving. "Anything you find must be reported to me immediately."

He stepped out of the small office and closed the door behind him. Hermione, who was still sitting on the desk, slipped off and started pacing the room. She couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that something about what Kingsley had said didn't add up. She had no way of explaining her feelings but when she eventually looked up at Narcissa she noticed the deep frown across the blonde's face.

She heaved a sigh and looked away. Suddenly she wondered what Ron would think if he knew she was working this closely with Narcissa. She knew how he felt about her and her past. Ever since the end of the war and Narcissa's clear change of allegiance, Ron was still unable to look past the darkness that had once been part of her. The only thing Hermione struggled with when she looked up at Narcissa was the striking resemblance she bore to her sister. As fair as Bellatrix was dark, Narcissa still had all the characteristic features of the Black family. In some moments it was like she looked up into Bellatrix's face but a different pair of eyes were looking back at her.

"Close your mind to thoughts you don't want others to see, Miss Granger," Narcissa said without warning and Hermione's head snapped around. Surprised hazel eyes met steel cold blue.

"What?"

"Your thoughts, Miss Granger. If we are to work alongside each other I suggest you keep them to yourself." Narcissa's voice was chilling. "I'm sure I do not need to remind you as to how to accomplish this?"

"You read my thoughts?" Hermione hissed, anger suddenly flickering behind her eyes. She spun around and strode towards the room, eventually trapping the taller and older witch between the wall and her own body. Narcissa didn't move. "You have no business being in my head!"

"Then stop giving me reasons to."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"That may very well be true but it would appear we're stuck with each other," Narcissa pointed out. A soft hand with long nails grazed the inside of Hermione's arm and suddenly the bright blue eyes darkened several shades. "We haven't got a choice."

Hermione gasped for air and quickly stepped away from Narcissa in an attempt to still the crazy racing of her heart. Her skin was burning where Narcissa had touched her and she pulled her arm away. "I do have a choice," she whispered. "I may not have a choice about working with you but I do have a choice about whether I like it or not."

She started for the door and turned around before leaving. "Meet me here at 9 am tomorrow morning. We'll discuss our plan then."

She left the small office and rushed through the corridor to the elevator. She impatiently waited for it to arrive after she pressed the button, looking over her shoulder every so often to see if Narcissa was following her. The corridor remained empty. It seemed the blonde witch had chosen to remain in the office and when the doors to the elevator closed behind her, Hermione sighed in relief. She rested against the cool metal walls of her new surroundings and covered her face in her hands.

By the time the elevator reached the Atrium level she'd managed to compose herself and stepped out of the elevator. The Atrium was crowded with people and it was easy to get lost. She made her way past witches and wizards of carious shapes, sizes and speaking at least five different languages before reaching the fireplaces. There was a row on either side. The one on the right provided transport to those leaving the Ministry and the row on the left was a portal to those arriving.

She waited until there was nobody else in any of the fireplaces before stepping into the green flames. Almost instantly they soared up, covering the lower half of her body. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut and then she loudly said, "Imagination."

Mere seconds later she reopened her eyes and found herself standing at the far end of the dance floor. She needed a few seconds to adapt to her dark surroundings. The beat was steady, perhaps a little faster than she had heard during her previous visits, but the volume of the music had been turned down. The bar was almost abandoned. She saw a few lonely figures sitting scattered around the various armchairs, most of them clutching glasses of blood red wine of mead in their hands. Most of their faces went hidden behind masks and when she approached the bar she saw the girl who had served her before.

"Hey," she said when Hermione reached the bar. "What can I get ya?"

"Red wine, please."

Hermione climbed on the barstool and watched as the girl choose a glass and poured the burgundy liquid into it. She then pushed it towards Hermione and looked at her through her eyelashes.

"Tough day?"

"Try tough life," Hermione groaned as she picked up the glass and eagerly sipped from the alcohol. It burnt down her throat and she felt herself relax.

But just as she was about to put the glass down a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and her head whipped around. A lone figure appeared from the shadows, clad all in black and their silver mask the only feature that stood out. She didn't have to look very long to recognise the mask and the dark eyes behind it.

Hermione looked back at the young barmaid. "Any chance you've got a mask lying around?"

The girls' lips curled up into a smile. "I see you're finding your way around. Here, you can borrow mine. In fact, keep it. I don't need it anymore."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I found what I'm looking for," she answered. "I don't need to hide anymore."

"Perhaps I don't want to be found."

Hermione took the silver mask the girl placed in her hand and looked at it. It would cover only her eyes and a fine flower pattern had been cut out along the bridge of the nose. Slowly she slid the mask in place and readjusted it until it felt right. She then slipped out of her seat and disappeared into the shadows.

It didn't take her long to recognise the figure she was looking for. Slumped down into a chair, alone, surrounded by darkness. Hermione slowly stepped forward until she eventually entered the woman's line of vision. Golden candle light reflected of the silver mask and her lips curled up into a smile when she watched the other woman sit up in surprise.

Without warning Hermione closed the distance between them, effortlessly straddling the woman's lap. When she felt the masked woman's hands on her hips it was like a silent approval. Hazel eyes darkened behind her own mask as she leant in and brushed her lips against those of the stranger. The heat radiating from their bodies was mutual and when Hermione felt her lover's tongue press against her lips she eagerly allowed her entry.

This time she knew what had brought her back here. Desire. Pure, adulterated lust. She came looking for something to release her, to safe her from how she was feeling. The tension, the anger and the loathing had to escape somehow and this was her only way.

"Who are you?" she whispered when they broke apart. She was panting and her heart beat in her throat. "I need to know who you are."

"I am your imagination," the woman answered softly. "I am what cannot be."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sssh," the woman whispered and covered Hermione's lips with her fingers. "Don't ask too many questions."

"But…"

"You didn't come here to ask questions, did you?"

"No."

"Then why did you come here?"

"To feel." Hermione licked her lips. "You."

The woman stood up, forcing Hermione to stand up to. From behind her mask the dark eyes glistened intently and she took Hermione's hand into her own. She led her across the bar, in the opposite direction as the first time they were together. Hermione walked past the bar and briefly met the eyes of the girl who had served her the wine. She just smiled before looking away and Hermione followed the dark haired woman towards the back of the room.

Long, sleek raven hair fell down her shoulders, accenting the silver tones of her mask. Through the fabric of her clothes Hermione could make out the curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts. It was impossible to tell her age as the mask hid her entire face. The tone of her voice was soft and sultry and every word was a seduction.

They went through a door and entered into a dimly lit corridor. It was wider than the corridor they walked through the previous night and there were doors on either side. Most of them were closed and they eventually reached one that was open. The raven haired woman reached into her pocket and withdrew a wand. She tapped the door as she entered and it fell shut behind Hermione. She heard a lock turn.

They stood in a small bedroom. The bed was made with pure white sheets and the window covered with heavy black velvet curtains. The floor was solid wood. A long mirror covered part of the wall, allowing them to look at themselves. A single chandelier hung on the ceiling, decorated with black crystals and white candles. Tiny golden flames flickered softly as they entered.

Hermione slowly began to realise what kind of a place Imagine really was. At first she had believed that what happened between them had been a fluke but it seemed people came here to be with each other, in every meaning of the world. Strangers who sought out company without strings attached, without questions asked. As they wore a mask they were no one.

"How long have you been coming here?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Too long," the woman answered. "But it is the only place I know."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I didn't know why I kept coming back." She took a step closer to the masked stranger and let her fingers trail along her side, inching slowly upwards towards her chest. "But now I do."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **Hey guys, I just wanted to say 'thanks' for all the awesome reviews. It's been such a long time since I wrote any Bellamione but it's good to be back!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Two bodies that were strangers to each other still, faces hidden behind masks. Here, illuminated only by candlelight, only their desires and their dreams existed. Beyond the walls of this room lay the outside world, the one they both knew, but for now it was forgotten. Gone were the promises made at an altar and forgotten was the fact that she had removed her wedding ring before walking into Imagine half an hour ago. Gone was Hermione and all that remained was the person she had become, deep down, hidden behind the mask.

Hermione's back arched off the bed when she felt her lover's fingers graze the inside of her thighs, warm lips travelling further down across her stomach. A sheen of sweat glistened across her forehead and her chest and her heart pounded in her chest in the speed of a galloping horse. Her slender fingers ran through her lover's long hair and every so often she felt the cold pressure of the silver mask against her glowing skin.

Agile fingers dipped lower between Hermione's legs, encountering the damp core that was waiting to be touched. First one then two digits eagerly slid inside, eliciting a soft outcry from the young brunette. Hermione's eyes snapped open when she felt the tip of her lover's tongue press against her core and a deep, low growl escaped her as she sank deeper into the pillows on the bed, her fingers entangled in raven manes.

She felt the passion coil in the depths of her stomach. She had never felt anything like this before. Ron was a selfish lover, more focused on his own gratification than hers. Foreplay was something he considered irrelevant and for him it seemed to be all about fucking her as fast and as hard as he could without really considering her desires. He liked it fast. On the nights, or sometimes the days, where they made love, it would all be over within twenty minutes. The same positions every time and it always ended with a chaste kiss and a muttered, "I love you." She couldn't remember the last time he had whispered those words to him in return.

But now a stranger touched her in a way nobody had ever touched her. Hermione's skin seemed to burn under their touch and her toes curled as she felt her lover's tongue flick over and press against her bundle of nerves. She couldn't think. Her mind got lost in an endless black abyss. All she had left to focus on was the heavy pounding of her heart echoing in her ears and the overwhelming burst of power and energy accumulating inside of her.

She rode out the waves of her orgasm as a muffled scream rolled from her tongue. Her fingers clenched a firm hold of strands of black hair and her body trembled. Inside her chest her heart seemed to explode and her eyes snapped wide open, staring up into the flickering candle light over her head. Every cell in her body was suddenly on fire and the back of her throat became dry. Unexpected tears glistened in her eyes.

She barely noticed how her lover freed herself from her grip and crawled up the bed to lie down alongside her. Soft fingers grazed Hermione's stomach as she left butterfly kisses across her shoulder. The caress made Hermione turn her head. Their eyes found each other from behind the mask.

"Thank you," she said, her lips curling up into a faint smile.

Her lover frowned, the curve of her brow just visible. "Whatever for?"

"Making me feel again."

Hermione scooted closer. She'd let her eyes trail over her the other woman's body when they undressed each other but now that she lay beside her in all her naked glory, she couldn't take her eyes off her. Her gaze lingered on her breasts. They were full with dark pink nipples. She tentatively reached out and cupped them, watching intently as her lover's eyes fluttered shut. Both her thumbs grazed over the now hardening nipples, drawing a soft sigh from the stranger's lips. She applied some pressure, squeezing softly and massaging gently.

Hermione leant in, placing her lips against those of her lover. What she tasted was a mixture of her own arousal and the lingering sweetness of mead. She pressed down harder, the tip of her tongue now begging for entrance and her lover's lips parted, allowing her in. A battle for control broke out, a battle that Hermione won with ease. Her hands now wandered from her lover's breasts down to her waist and she pulled her closer until their bodies were pressed flush against each other.

"Let me touch you," Hermione whispered when they broke apart. Her hand rested on the other woman's hip, moving closer towards her thigh. Intense hazel eyes stared into the black ones before her. "Please."

"No," her lover whispered and her fingers closed around Hermione's wrist. "I can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Because I can't allow myself to feel anything."

"Please…"

Hermione's plea was soft yet insisting and she gently rolled her lover onto her back until she lay resting between the other woman's legs. She felt the heat radiating from her core against her own and looked down on the masked stranger beneath her. Although her lover had whispered she didn't want Hermione to touch her, she could see the lust flickering behind her eyes and when she leant in for a kiss, searing lips met her own and it was as if any hesitation had disappeared from the room.

Hermione pressed her body harder against that of her lover, noticing how it caused the other woman's back to arch and her hips to roll. She increased her rhythm, almost as if in a thrusting motion, grinding herself faster and harder against her lover. She felt long nails dig into her shoulder blades and soft lips sucking down on the pulse point below her ear. Her own lips kissed every inch of exposed skin she could find and her fingers slipped between their moving bodies, eventually finding the wet folds she had been looking for.

Her lover's eyes snapped open when she carefully slid two digits inside of her and almost immediately began thrusting in the same rhythm as their bodies.

"Oh God…"

The words rolled of the raven haired woman's tongue like a whisper and she stared up at Hermione.

After only minutes Hermione could feel her lover's muscles tightened around her fingers and her body writhed beneath her. Her eyes had fallen shut behind the mask and her legs wrapped around Hermione's back. Her nails continued to claw at her in a desperate attempt to hold on and eventually sank deep into Hermione's lower back as the orgasm hit. Minutes felt like an eternity as she exploded into her orgasm and felt what could only be described as lightening bolts shoot through her body.

She slowly and almost reluctantly let go of the young brunette and Hermione carefully rolled away from her lover, back to the other side of the bed. She propped herself up on her elbow and watched as the older woman slowly came to her senses, her dark eyes still fixed on Hermione and the beginnings of a smile lingering across her lips.

Hermione took in the glorious sight of someone who had enjoyed being with her, not someone who was with her because they felt they were entitled to. She'd never considered she would be able to do this to someone else; to make them feel wanted and loved. Never before had she even touched a woman but somehow it had come naturally. She didn't have to think. Her body had responded on its own and now she watched a complete stranger lying beside her, knowing that everything that had happened between these four walls would never leave the room.

Minutes passed slowly and for the longest time neither of them moved. It wasn't until Hermione's gaze fell on her watch that she realised just how long she'd been here.

"You've got to go, don't you?" her lover asked softly.

Hermione swallowed. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to break whatever magic had created this moment. She averted her eyes.

"I don't want to."

"You should go. I know there's another life out there for you."

"What about your life?"

The dark haired woman shook her head and slipped out of the bed before Hermione had a chance to grab her wrist and pull her back. She picked up her wand, flicked it, and she was dressed in seconds. She kept her back turned to Hermione.

"I don't have a life."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked and she too got out of the bed.

She looked around for her clothes and clumsily got dressed. She picked her wand up from the small bedside table and quietly placed a Beauty Charm on herself to obscure the marks left behind by the blind passion. She then circled the bed until she reached her lover's side and took her hand. The touch was soft and unexpected.

"It does not concern you," the raven haired stranger said before Hermione could repeat her question and pulled her hand out of Hermione's. She started for the door and opened it. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why?" Hermione wanted to know.

Her lover pointed at the golden wedding ring around her finger, anger suddenly flashing behind her eyes. "You think I didn't see that?"

Hermione stared down at the floor. "I understand."

"Nobody asks questions here," the woman said, her voice a little sharper this time. "It's how we survive." Unexpectedly she leaned in, her lips brushing against Hermione's ear as the brunette filed past her to leave. "Goodbye, my love."

Hermione shivered and her heart sank when she heard the door close behind her. She turned around, hoping that somehow this wasn't what it felt like, but the lock turned and then the silence overwhelmed her. A sense of loss crept into her chest and into her heart and a heavy sigh escaped her as she rested her back against the door. She was desperate for it to open again. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay, to forget about the life she lived outside this building.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she slowly reached for her face and removed the mask. It felt heavy and cold in her hand. She slipped it into her bag, looked back at the closed door one last time and then started down the dark and quiet corridor.

Back inside the room the raven haired woman grabbed desperately at her mask, her fingers clawing at the silver metal. It did not come away from her face. She cried in pain and frustration as she pulled; only hurting herself more. Her agonising cried bounced off the walls but were smothered by the magic she had placed upon this room, leaving her to be the only witness to her madness.

Slowly, like snow melting in the sun, the magic she had placed upon herself began to fade. The long raven hair regained its curl, now cascading down her back like an endless waterfall. Charcoal eyes glistened behind the silver mask. Eyes stained with tears and reflecting hatred and pain. She yanked the sleeve of her dress back, revealing her forearm. The scar left behind by the Dark Mark sat across her skin. Bellatrix Lestrange stared at herself in the mirror. The sacrifice she had made had been bearable until now.

Her legs could no longer bear the weight of her body and they buckled. She fell to the floor, her hands once again desperately clawing at the metal that obscured her face, hiding her from the entire world. She was alive yet she was dead. Her heart beat in her chest but it was the only thing that reminded her that she was in fact still human. Everything else about her had been taken, robbed away from her. She had made a deal with Death and it had come due.

~()~

She couldn't go home. There was nothing to go home to. She couldn't face him. Not yet. Though over time she had perfected her attitude and her abilities to let her husband believe anything she told him, she couldn't bear going home and simply look at him. Never before had the thought of returning to the flat they had rented as soon as they got married been so daunting. With every step she took she realised more and more that going back to the West End was not an option after tonight. It wasn't where she belonged.

Hermione looked up when a familiar building appeared in the distance. Somehow her footsteps had brought her back to the Ministry. She increased her pace until she reached the entrance. All her movements were made based on her gut instinct, not because she had some rational explanation as to what she was doing here at this time of night.

She stepped into an empty elevator, pressed the button and her breath hitched as the elevator started its decent. Mere seconds later the doors swung open, revealing the dark corridor she had left only hours earlier. The vaults were quiet. Nobody ever came here in the day and this one was the one place security didn't patrol during the night.

She remembered what Kingsley had said. _The vault at the end of the floor._

The sound of her footsteps sounded hollow and Hermione muttered a spell under her breath to silence them. Dark shadows were cast upon the walls and floors and the flames on the metal torches flickered as she walked past. Her heart pounded in her chest and she held her breath when she finally reached the very last vault, in the darkest part of the corridor.

Tentatively she stepped forward, her wand drawn to illuminate the door handle. it looked no different than any other door handle but when she reached out and touched it with just one finger, it lit up. It seemed to absorb her fingerprint. Hermione held her breath as she closed her hand around the door handle completely. It once again lit up, glowing warm against her skin. A split second later the door unlocked and swung open inwards.

A tight grip around her wrist pulled her back just as she was about to enter the room and an unexpected force spun her around, slamming her back into the wall. Her wand slipped from her fingers and went dark. Immediately her hazel eyes snapped up and she could make out the features of a face appearing from the shadows. Crystal blue eyes seemed to light up as the weak flame of one of the torches illuminated Narcissa's face.

"What the hell were you thinking, Miss Granger?" Narcissa hissed as her free hand slammed the door shut. She never broke the eye contact. "Didn't you hear Kingsley when he said neither of us should enter the room alone?"

Hermione stared up at Narcissa. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Narcissa replied sharply. Her face was close to Hermione's now. So close that she could smell the delicate hint of apple mead on her breath. Her fingers slipped away from Hermione's wrist but she did not step back. "Just be glad I was here to stop you from doing something incredibly foolish."

"Why?" Hermione wanted to know. "Why is this book so dangerous that we can't examine it on our own?"

"You really think it's wise to examine a powerful magical object like that in the middle of the night?"

Hermione cocked her head, intrigued by the sudden change in Narcissa's demeanour. "If I didn't know any better I'd almost think you were trying to protect me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Granger."

"Why are you even here?" Hermione wanted to know. "It's after midnight."

Narcissa crossed her arms in front of her chest and her blue eyes took in Hermione's appearance. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I can't sleep."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed and seemed to linger on a part of Hermione's neck that was bruised, even though the magic covered it up. She then looked back at Hermione's face and for a moment the young brunette would have sworn that she saw the blonde witch smile. She pushed herself awat from the wall, closing the distance between her and Narcissa to only a couple of inches. The shift in atmosphere as the tension began to rise was undeniable.

"Stay out of my way," she hissed as the pushed past the blonde woman. "Kingsley may have decided that you and I need to work together but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Narcissa stepped aside to let Hermione pass. "Nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, Miss Granger."

She reached down to pick up Hermione's wand and her bag but not without noticing the silver mask inside it. As she handed it back to the younger witch their eyes found each other. Hermione knew that Narcissa knew and the older woman's eyes suddenly softened. Her hand brushed against Hermione's as she gave her the bag and her wand. "Be careful what you wish for. You never know what you might get."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked but Narcissa had already disappeared into the shadows.

"Nine o'clock tomorrow morning, Miss Granger," her voice called from the darkness. "Now go home!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: **As I wrote this chapter I was listening to Mattia Cupelli - Ascending. It is perfect for this chapter. Give it a listen.

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**Chapter 7**

The flat was dark when she came home. She didn't bother switching on the light. She just kicked off her shoes in the hall before padding into the living room on her socks. Even with the lights off she could see the shape of empty Butterbeer bottles on the coffee table. A sense of irritating boiled in the pit of her stomach as she reached into her pocket for her wand, flicked it and watched the bottles whizz into the kitchen before landing in the recycling bin.

Hermione walked through the living room towards the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear Ron snoring. She could taste the bile in the back of her throat as she stepped into the room, slowly stripping off her clothes. A cold shiver crept down her spine as the crisp air tickled her skin and she effortlessly slipped under the sheets without waking her husband. He didn't move and neither did she.

She lay on her back, her hands folded behind her head and her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Ron was breathing steadily beside her, lost in a land of dreams, but sleep didn't claim her. Her mind drifted back to the moment at Imagine when the dark haired woman had slowly removed her clothing, revealing every secret that lay hidden beneath. The mere thought alone was enough to leave her skin burning to be touched and the sudden yearning between her legs left her groaning into her pillow as she rolled onto her side.

She watched the hours pass on the alarm clock on the bedside table, the numbers fading into a blur the longer she looked at them. When the sharp sound of the device announced that it was half past six in the morning, she sat up almost immediately. The sun had not yet climbed over the horizon and it was still dark outside. She looked beside her to find Ron slowly waking up.

"You were home late," he said when he opened his eyes enough to see his wife.

"Kingsley's given me a new task," Hermione answered without making eye contact. "I got so engrossed in that I forgot about the time. When I got back you were already asleep." She pushed the covers away from herself and slipped out of bed just in time to avoid Ron's hand. He'd attempted to pull her back into the bed but she shook her head.

"I've got a meeting at nine."

He sat up, clearly frustrated. "You're always working!"

She spun around, anger flickering in her eyes. "And you're always out with your mates but do you hear me complaining?!"

"Are you happy?"

His question came out of the blue and caught her by surprise. She'd been about to open the bedroom door but her hand now hovered over the door handle aimlessly. Slowly she turned back to look at him. He still sat up in bed, the sheets covering him from the waist down. The beginnings of morning sunlight began to fill the room and lit up the copper tones of Ron's hair.

"Well, are you?" he questioned her, a little more insisting this time. "Because to me it doesn't seem like you are."

"It's…"

Her voice trailed off as she was drawn back into the memories of the previous night. She had shared the bed with a stranger. A woman of whom she knew nothing, not even her name. All she kenw was that she had the capability of setting her soul on fire in a way she had never felt it burn before. Her mind then flashed back to Narcissa and her piercing blue eyes. Somewhere deep inside her body a monster roared and she didn't know what to call it.

She peered up at him through her eyelashes and could see the hurt across his face. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" he echoed and kicked the sheets away from him. He walked around the bed, dressed only in a pair of simple black boxer shorts that formed a sharp contrast against the pale colour of his skin. He held still a few steps away from her. "Really, 'Mione? Either you are or you aren't. There is no middle ground."

"Isn't there?" she countered. The anger rushed through her without warning. "Then why do I feel this way?"

"Feel what way?"

"Like this isn't my life anymore!"

There was no going back now. The words were out there and the damage had been done. They stared at each other. Two people who had come to the terrifying conclusion that the other wasn't the person who they thought they were. They had changed and it had happened without either of them noticing. Time and life itself had gotten the better of them and forced them apart. Right in this moment they were left to question whether they had ever truly been together at all.

This wasn't how she had expected it would end. She had hoped, prayed, that they would wake up one day and realise that they had drifted too far apart. Although it would hurt their hearts they would let go the illusion that their life had become and go their separate ways. But what happened here, witnessed by the first rays of the November sun, was a life that was suddenly falling apart. It was like a glass ball and the shards lay spread out across the floor, the pieces too tiny to ever put back together. Nothing could change what had been done.

"So… do you want to leave? Is that what you want?" Ron's voice was laced with tears. "Do you want a divorce?"

He looked so hurt, she thought. The look in his eyes went straight through her heart and she realised that, despite everything that had happened, she still cared about him. Perhaps she did not love him, she wasn't sure if she ever truly had, but she still cared for him. He was her friend even if he wasn't' her lover. She heaved a sigh, the pain inside her own chest almost too much to bear.

"I don't know," she whispered as a tear slid down her cheek. "I don't know what I want anymore."

"Okay."

She looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I said, 'okay'," Ron repeated and then he sighed. "I'll go stay with Mum and Dad for a little while until we figure this whole thing out." His eyes found hers and she looked up into the face of a broken and confused man. "And if we can't figure it out then…"

"Then we'll deal with whatever comes next," she finished his sentence.

She took a hesitant step towards him and suddenly she was thrown several years back in time. The night Ron had stormed out of the tent after thinking she and Harry were more than friends. He had been so hurt. Never before had she seen that look in his eyes and she'd hoped she would never see it again but it was back now. She had tried to run after him that night but he had already disappeared, leaving her alone in the rain. It seemed that history had a way of repeating itself.

"Will you be staying here?" he asked.

She nodded. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

It was true. Her parents had died while they were in Australia. Voldemort's power had been that strong. She had some friends but she couldn't remember the last time she had really spoken to any of them. Her job and her life since discovering Imagine had gotten in the way and she couldn't think of anyone she would want to stay with. Not even Ginny, although she was sure that Ron's sister would understand if she had knocked on her door and asked for help. She didn't want to leave the flat. She was alone.

"I'll just go grab a couple of things and I'll leave you to it," Ron said.

Hermione left him in the bedroom and walked into the bathroom, after picking up a pair of jeans, a shirt and some underwear. She took a quick shower and washed her hair, rinsing away the remainders of the night before. With the door locked she removed the Beauty Charm and revealed the marks left behind across her flesh. Scratches and bites of passion as well as dark purple and red bruises marked milky skin.

When she left the bathroom, her hair still wet and her jeans not buttoned up, she found Ron in the living room. He stood by the window staring out over the street below but he turned around when Hermione walked in. Their eyes found each other across the length of the room and their silence said more than a thousand words ever could.

"I'm sorry." The words rolled of her tongue unexpectedly and she swallowed the lump in the back of her throat away. "Ron, I'm so sorry."

"I should have seen this coming," he answered softly. "It's not like we've been going through the best time recently, have we?" He shook his head and picked up the bag that lay at his feet. "We're not the same people we were three years ago, Hermione. It's not just you."

"I know," she admitted. Her heart sank as she watched him walk across the room with the bag in his head. He'd gotten dressed in his favourite pair of jeans and a jumper she'd bought him for his last birthday. It clung to the muscles in his arms and shoulders.

He turned around in the doorway, his eyes seeking out hers. "Do you want me to ask mum to check in on you tomorrow?"

"Thank you," she smiled. "But I'll be okay."

"So…" He seemed to hesitate. "When will I see you again?"

"I'll send you an owl by the end of the week," Hermione replied. Tears burnt behind her eyes and she tried to smile. "I promise."

He slowly turned away from her and disappeared. When she heard the front door close the silence was suddenly overwhelming. She stood alone in the living room, surrounded by the furniture they had bought together and their wedding photographs in silver frames on the wall. She rushed to the window but by the time she reached the glass and looked outside, he was already gone. Suddenly the reality of the situation came over her and she dropped down to her knees as the tears began to stream down her face.

~()~

It was just after nine when she stepped out of the elevator and started down the dark corridor. Even in the early hours of the day the lowest level of the Ministry still felt like a dungeon. The golden flames in the torches flickered as she walked past, casting her moving shadow across the walls. The sound of her footsteps echoed on.

Narcissa appeared from the darkness, her blue eyes fixed on Hermione. "You're late."

Hermione's head snapped up. Disdain flickered in her eyes. "Save it for someone who cares."

She filed past the blonde witch and reached the vault door. She closed her hand around the door handle and felt the metal glow warm against her skin. A second later it unlocked and swung open inwards. Her breath hitched as she felt Narcissa close behind her, the older woman's body pressing slightly against her own. She reached for her wand and whispered, "Lumos."

The vault was no bigger than the small office where Kingsley had first told them about the Book of the Dead. The silver glow of Hermione's wand lit up the small space, the ligjt bouncing of all four surrounding walls. The floor was made from pure black marble and their footsteps echoed on. The sound of the vault door slamming behind them made Hermione spin around. A gasp escaped her as the light of her wand lit up Narcissa's face. For a moment they both looked at each other.

"Lumos Maxima," Hermione whispered and the light grew brighter.

Narcissa walked across the room until she reached what looked like a chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It appeared to be exactly in the middle of the room. She aimed her wand and muttered, "Incendio!"

The small candles lit one by one, casting a golden glow around the room. Hermione lowered her wand now that the light was bright enough and her gaze fell on what looked like a small table. It had been shrouded in darkness before. She pushed her wand back into her pocket and walked towards it. The book lay in the middle of the wooden desk. The front cover was worn and tainted by the hands of time and the elements of nature. It looked like it had once been embroidered with signs and figures but most had faded.

Hermione turned to look at Narcissa. "Is this it?"

"This is it," the blonde replied as she approached the desk. "The Book of the Dead."

Hermione studied Narcissa's face more closely. She hasn't forgotten their encounter the night before. She also hadn't forgotten how she had acted towards Narcissa and how some of her anger had been misplaced. Her eyes trailed down from Narcissa's face down the lines of her neck before coming to a rest on the white blouse she wore today. Narcissa had taken a liking to wearing Muggle clothing, preferring the tighter fitting garments over the flowing robes. The white silk fabric of her blouse clung to the curves of her breasts and Hermione felt the back of her throat become dry.

She eventually tore her eyes away and looked back at the book. "What you think Kingsley expects us to find?"

"I don't know," Narcissa answered in all honesty. "Most likely an explanation as to how it ended up in the Forbidden Forest or maybe who used it last."

"You believe the legend then?" Hermione wanted to know and Narcissa looked up.

"I do. And you should too."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. The way with which Narcissa spoke those words sounded ominous. "Do you know something I don't?"

"There are lots of things I know, Miss Granger. Most of which you will never have a clue about."

"Listen," Hermione hissed and she took a step closer to Narcissa, catching the older woman off guard. "I have plenty of other things on my mind without having to put up with your petulant behaviour. Kingsley made us work alongside each other so I suggest that's what we do. As for the…" She paused, her hazel eyes connecting with blue. "…attitude…" She didn't miss how the pale blue darkened several shades, suddenly reflecting a hunger she had never seen before. Narcissa's mouth opened slightly. "…I suggest you leave it at the door."

Narcissa cocked her head and leant in, suddenly closing the distance between them to only a few inches. She was so close that Hermione could see every perfect eyelash. Ruby red lips curled up into a somewhat teasing smile and slender fingers unexpectedly crept up along the inside of Hermione's arm. The touch was feather light but left Hermione's skin glowing.

"Whatever you say, Miss Granger," Narcissa breathed and the softness of her voice made Hermione's heart shudder. "Whatever you say."

She averted her gaze and severed the rapidly building tension. "We should get to work."

Narcissa composed herself and the look in her eyes hardened. "Of course."

Hermione turned away from the blonde and walked back to the desk. She flicked her wand, drawing two comfortable chairs into the air and watched as they casually landed onto the floor. She summoned a few bottles of water, a scroll of parchment and a couple of quills and a jar of ink and without looking back at Narcissa sat down in one of the two armchairs. She didn't look up when Narcissa pulled the second chair up closer to the desk and sat down.

They worked for hours without interruption. The only sound came from their quills scratching across parchment and the old pages in the book being turned. Kingsley had been right. There were only two spells but Hermione quickly realised that to perform either one of them, the witch or wizard wanting to cast the spell had to truly prepare themselves. The list of ingredients needed to make the potion was endless and involved items that could only be found certain times of year or during full moons. The list was so specific that Hermione wondered how anyone could ever have managed it.

"This is very complicated magic," Hermione said eventually, cutting through the silence that had lingered between them for almost an hour. Until this moment they had only spoken to read parts of the book out loud and confirming what they had written or read. "You would have to be a highly skilled witch or wizard to pull this off."

Narcissa looked up and removed the black reading glasses she'd put on a little earlier. "Indeed," she answered, the hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks. "That's why Kingsley is so concerned."

Hermione frowned. "Who could possibly be so skilled that they would actually be able to use this magic?"

"Can't you think of anyone?"

"Dumbledore was dead by the time this book was found. He'd been dead for some time and obviously he didn't use the magic or he would still be here," Hermione said slowly and ran her fingers through her hair. Her hazel eyes found Narcissa's blue and once again she was struck by their intensity.

"Anyone else?" the blonde witch pressured.

"You mean…" Hermione hesitated. "You mean Voldemort?"

"Top of my list," Narcissa admitted. "And I expect he's top of Kingsley's list too. It's why's so nervous."

"Voldemort had Horcruxes. He didn't need magic like this," Hermione said and pointed at the book. "Well, not in his mind anyway."

"Maybe not," Narcissa said slowly and stood up. She looked down at Hermione. "Join me."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Join you where?"

"I need some fresh air," Narcissa said as she started for the door. "Walk with me."

Hermione got out of her chair and followed the older woman across the room. Narcissa opened the vault door and then closed it again once they had stepped into the quiet corridor. In the weak light of the torches she turned to look at Hermione, a knowing look filling her eyes.

"Now, Miss Granger," she said softly, "why don't you tell me what's really going on inside that head of yours."

"Excuse me?"

"I told you," Narcissa reminded her and her hand brushed against Hermione's arm in a touch that could only be described as sensual. "If you don't want me to see them, keep your thoughts to yourself." Her blue eyes narrowed and she tightened her grip. "If not, I see everything…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: **Hey guys, sorry for the delay. It seems my life is heading towards crazy-town at the moment and I can't seem to make it stop. I hope you enjoy this update. I am going on holiday at the end of this week and won't get a chance to update for a while. Hopefully after that my life should go back to some kind of normal.

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**Chapter 8**

Walking the rainy streets alongside Narcissa Black was not something Hermione had ever envisioned herself doing. They walked silently, the hoods of their robes drawn up to protect themselves from the relentless rain. She had expected Narcissa to Apparate to wherever it was she wanted to go but it seemed the older witch preferred to walk in the rain. She walked slowly and with determination, her head held high, staring the world directly in the face.

Hermione was conscious of the fact that Narcissa had reminded her that she knew what she was thinking. She tried to keep her mind empty, or at least void of any thoughts that would trigger another interrogation by Narcissa, but it was hard. The stormy winds and heavy wind only increased her feelings of despair and loneliness. The thought of returning to an empty flat later that night weight heavy on her heart and she wasn't sure she could bear walking through the door.

"You seem troubled," Narcissa said unexpectedly.

She turned around, her face lit up by the dull yellow light from a street lamp. Inquisitive blue eyes searched Hermione's face. "And you seem to have listened to me."

"No one wants strangers poking around in their heads," Hermione said sharply. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to mind your own business?"

"Kingsley asked us to work together," Narcissa said, her voice dangerously low. "That makes you mu business."

"You have a very strange work etiquette."

Narcissa chuckled. The sound of it was almost identical to that of her sister and it brought a cold shiver down to Hermione's spine.

"Miss Granger, some would say that you are one of the smartest witches of your generation but I would say that I'd beg to differ," Narcissa said. There was no way to deny that she had said it disdainfully and she didn't even try to rephrase herself. "For someone so intelligent you seem rather dim."

"If you dislike me so much then why did you accept Kingsley's offer to work with me?" Hermione challenged her. "You could have just said no."

"I could have," Narcissa said and the smirk across her face grew bigger. "But if I had then I would have missed all of this." She cocked her head and unexpectedly the harsh look in her eyes softened. "Listen, Miss Granger, I have been hearing stories about the Book of the Dead since I was a little girl. Stories you can't even begin to imagine. I know what that damned thing can do."

"Why are you so interested in that book?" Hermione wanted to know. "What is it about that dark magic that appeals to you?"

"You think it appeals to me?" Narcissa snarled. "My, my, Miss Granger, you really have no idea, do you?" She took a step closer to the younger witch. She was now only an arm's length away. "I am not trying to understand it. I'm trying to destroy it. Only when it's destroyed can it undo what has been done."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Undo what has been done?"

"Don't ask questions you are not prepared to see answered," Narcissa hissed venomously.

"Fine," Hermione bit back. The desire in her stomach grew stronger as she stared into Narcissa's eyes. Somehow she was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. "But if we're going to work together on this then I expect you to trust me."

Narcissa didn't answer immediately. She merely searched Hermione's face as if to work out whether or not the brunette meant what she said. As the rain became heavier she slowly nodded. "Okay," she relented. "I trust you."

"Good." Hermione forced herself not to break the eye contact. "And since we're on the subject of trust…" She noticed the nerve alongside Narcissa's eye twitch. "People who trust each other do not invade each other's mind uninvited."

She watched as the blonde witch turned around and started walking again. Hermione quickly caught up with her but knew better than to pressure her for an answer. Narcissa didn't speak and the silence between them was not uncomfortable. They walked side by side, strangers in the night. Hermione followed Narcissa without questioning where they were going. It seemed the older woman knew her way around the streets of London better than Hermione had expected.

Eventually they walked down into a familiar street and Hermione felt her heart rate quicken. In the distance the letters flickered behind a dark, rainy window. The entrance once again guarded by a fierce looking Auror, unfazed by the rain and the approaching thunder. The sound of their footsteps was smothered by the rain.

"Wait!" Hermione said when Narcissa slowly started to approach the bar and she grabbed the older woman's arm, pulling her back.

When Narcissa turned around and noticed the suddenly frightened look in Hermione's eyes she tilted her head. "If I am not mistaken you are familiar with this place, correct?"

"Yes," Hermione stammered. Her throat was suddenly dry. "But I did not attend to…"

"Visit tonight?"

"No," Hermione replied. "Visit with you."

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "I see." She didn't seem taken aback by Hermione's response. "May I ask as to why?"

Hermione's jaw dropped a little at the older woman's blunt request. "Because I do not mix work with pleasure," she answered defiantly and noticed how Narcissa's blue eyes suddenly darkened several shades. It seemed she had touched on something and she couldn't deny that the feeling of control and power excited her.

Narcissa stepped closer to her and Hermione suddenly remembered the feeling of Narcissa's body pressed against hers outside the vault. She couldn't explain where the strong desires came from that suddenly raged through her body but she lifted up her chin with confidence and pride as she looked up at the older woman. Narcissa's hand somehow crept up alongside the length of Hermione's fingers, slender fingers inching upwards towards her shoulder before finding a string of wet hair. Her dark red lips parted slightly as she wound the strand of hair around her finger.

Hermione looked over the blonde witch's shoulder and noticed the dark clad figure emerging from Imagine. The tall, slender figure of a woman with long raven hair that was now drenched by the rain slowly walked out into the street. Her face went hidden behind the silver mask and across the length of the street her charcoal eyes found Hermione's. Time seemed to freeze as their gazes locked.

Narcissa slowly turned around when she realised she had lost Hermione's attention and her gaze fixed on the lone figure standing in the middle of the street, rain pouring down on them. The sudden change in atmosphere betrayed natural magic building and Hermione felt how the Earth began to rumble underneath her feet.

Without warning various windows across buildings lining the street burst and shards of glass rained down on them. A drainpipe attached to one of the roofs snapped and fell down onto the street. Water poured out onto the pavement and the sound of thunder suddenly seemed so much closer. Thick, black clouds slowly moved in front of the moon, taking away the silver light that had lit up their surroundings. All that remained was the ghostly light from the streetlamps.

"Narcissa, what's happening?!" Hermione asked as her hand shot down to her wand and she pulled it out, casting a quick Shield Charm that protected them from falling glass and a broken windowpane.

Narcissa didn't answer and instead she walked along the street towards Imagine. From across the street the dark clad figure did the same and the distance between them grew smaller. As they approached, more windows broke and shattered but Narcissa did not draw her wand to protect herself. Her hood fell away, revealing her platinum blonde hair. It was now plastered across her forehead in the same way the raven hair stuck to the stranger's mask.

When she and the dark haired woman were only a few steps away from each other the madness stopped. There was only silence and the sound of pouring rain. Narcissa's hand inched closer to her wand but as her fingers brushed against the wood she was knocked backwards by a blast of invisible and unexpected magic. She landed on her back and by the time she had leapt back to her feet; her nemesis had vanished into the night. All that was left was an empty street.

Narcissa felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to find Hermione dropping to her knees beside her. She gratefully accepted the brunette's hand as she helped her back onto her feet and Hermione didn't let go of Narcissa's arm. Her eyes drifted back to the spot from where the masked stranger had disappeared.

"What happened?" Hermione breathed, her heart still racing in her chest. "Narcissa, why did that woman attack you?"

She knew who that woman was. She knew her in ways she wouldn't ever want the world to know. Even from where she stood she had recognised the black eyes behind the mask. She knew those hands. They were the same hands that had roamed over her body, discovering all her secrets. She had tasted those lips; felt them in places she had never dared to imagine. Yet the masked woman was still a stranger and now she had even more questions than before.

"It doesn't matter," Narcissa answered, her blue eyes connecting with Hermione's brown. From the way the younger witch looked at her she knew there was more than she was leading on. Before Hermione could tell her to stop she had found her way into the brunette's mind and saw the things Hermione had tried to hide. Blue eyes widened and without warning she suddenly placed a hand over Hermione's chest.

"Hey!" Hermione protested and slapped Narcissa's hand away. "At least have the good grace to ask first!"

The little bit of colour that covered Narcissa's face slowly drained away and she withdrew her hand. "Sorry," she answered and averted her eyes. "But I had to know."

"Know what?"

"It doesn't matter. Everything's allright."

"The hell it is!" Hermione gestured around. The broken windows told a different story. "Things are most definitely not allright."

"We can't talk here," Narcissa said softly, her eyes once again fixed on Imagine. "We need to leave."

She started walking and Hermione needed a few seconds before she caught up with her. Strong fingers closed around the older woman's arm and she forced her to turn around. Blazing eyes found Narcissa's and she shook her head. She had drawn her wand and aimed at Narcissa's chest.

"You're going to tell me exactly what's going on."

"I promise I will," Narcissa said, her voice suddenly softer and kinder. "But not here. I need you to come with me. It's not safe here." She reached out her hand, an invite for Hermione to take it and to trust her. "Please, Hermione." It was the first time she had called Hermione by her first name. "I promise to tell you everything I know. You were the one to talk about trust earlier. I need you to trust me now."

Hermione took Narcissa's hand and took a deep breath before closing her eyes. She felt the wind whip around her face as the blonde witch turned on the spot. With a faint 'pop' they vanished into the London night, leaving behind the devastation they had caused.

When Hermione reopened her eyes she found herself standing outside her own flat. She turned around to Narcissa in surprise but the blonde shook her head. There was no time for questions now. She gently pushed Hermione to the building's front door and she searched her pockets for her keys. When she couldn't find them she used her wand and the lock opened. She made sure to lock the door behind them before quickly climbing the stairs. Once they stood outside her apartment door Hermione tapped the lock with her key again. It swung open and she stepped aside to let Narcissa in. When she closed the door, she felt a strange feeling of unease creep up on her.

She walked into the living room to find half a dozen candles lit and Narcissa drawing the curtains, banishing the weak light from the streetlamps. The sight of Narcissa Black in her living room was strange.

"How did you know where I lived?" Hermione asked mutely.

"There's a lot I learnt about you just now, Hermione," Narcissa said softly. She sank down on the sofa after she shrugged herself out of her wet cloak. A simple flick from her wand dried her clothes and her hair. The blonde locks now fell in playful curls down her shoulders. Hermione had never seen Narcissa's hair curly before. It appeared that she used magic to straighten it.

"What happened out there?" Hermione wanted to know as she sank down on the other sofa and folded her hands in her lap. "Who was that outside of Imagine?"

"That was the reason I am so interested in the Book of the Dead," Narcissa answered and her piercing eyes connected with Hermione's. "I am not interested in it because of what it can do. I am interested in it because of what it has already done."

"What do you mean?"

Narcissa heaved a sigh. "Do you remember what Kingsley said about the Book?"

"It allows someone to live when they should be dead. The Book contains the spell for one person to bring another back from the dead or for a person to make a deal with Death itself but they can never be who they once wore. They are forced to live inside this world without really being. They are a ghost." Her voice was hollow. "They're…"

"Forced to live behind a mask."

Hermione's eyes snapped up after Narcissa finished her sentence. "What?!"

"When a person makes a deal with Death, they sacrifice a part of themselves. It means that when they return to the world of the living, they live inside their own shell. They have no face, no name," Narcissa said softly. "They wear a mask because Death has taken their true identity."

"So you're saying…"

"The figure we saw outside Imagine made a deal with Death."

Hermione's heart sank. "It can't be. She was so…"

"Real?" Narcissa whispered and Hermione nodded. "She _is_ real, Hermione."

Hermione covered her face with her hands. "I don't believe you."

"I wouldn't either if I were in your position," Narcissa said slowly and Hermione peered through her fingers. "Like I said, Hermione, I saw everything. I know you've slept with her, more than once." She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the suddenly broken looking brunette. "In fact, I have no doubt that's why she came looking for you."

Hermione suddenly felt sick. Her stomach turned and the bile rose up in the back of her throat. She jumped up and ran across her apartment to the bathroom where she dropped to her knees beside the toilet. Her stomach emptied itself into the bowl. The foul content of her stomach stared back at her as tears streamed down her face. Her head was pounding and her heart seemed to beat a little slower inside her chest. Her hands desperately clung to the porcelain bowl in an attempt to steady herself. She felt Narcissa's eyes rest on her and turned her head enough to see the older woman standing in the bathroom doorway, her forehead creased with worry.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry."

"You know more about this then you've let on," Hermione stammered as she slowly pushed herself back onto her feet and turned to the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror. A broken, twisted reflection of a young woman she didn't recognise. Her eyes were red and swollen and her skin pale. Damp strands of her hair clung to her clammy forehead. "What else do you know?"

"I don't know if I…"

"TELL ME!" Hermione demanded, her voice suddenly sharp and full of tears. "Don't you dare hold anything back from me. Not anymore. Not after this."

"Okay," Narcissa whispered. "Over the years I have read up on the Book of the Dead as much as I could. Information is difficult to come by but I found a story from fifty years ago where a wizard made a deal with Death and was returned to the world of the living. He lived behind a mask, for the whole world to see. The avoided him, believed him insane. No one even suspected that his tales about Death were true." She paused. "Only one woman believed him and she became increasingly infatuated and obsessed with him. She tried for him to remove his mask but he couldn't yet she wouldn't give up. She kept coming back and he kept luring her in. Eventually, after several months, she had become so obsessed with him that she killed her entire family and then herself in an attempt to truly be with him, believing that she too could return from the dead."

"What happened to her?"

"Her family buried her in an unmarked grave. She never got to see her lover again. The village people chased him down and burnt him alive. His deal with Death drove him insane and people had finally started to realise that he had done something else along the way. He had given Death another soul to claim."

"The dead girl," Hermione concluded and Narcissa nodded. "Do you know who she is? The woman behind the mask?"

Narcissa averted her eyes. "Don't ask me that question again."

"Tell me!" Hermione demanded as she walked across the bathroom and placed both her hands on Narcissa's shoulders. Pleading brown eyes found tired looking blue. "Please, tell me."

"Bellatrix," Narcissa whispered and tears glistened in her eyes. "The monster behind the mask is my sister."


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **Hey guys, I am back from my holiday and managed to write this update for you all. I hope you guys are allright after the long wait. My apologies.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Narcissa watched from the doorway as Hermione fell down to her knees beside the toilet bowl for a second time and heaved. The sound of her stomach emptying herself cut through her life a knife and the blonde witch turned her head away, sadness reflecting in her blue eyes. She forced herself to look back once the horrific sound had stopped and Hermione still sat on her knees, her arms draped across the porcelain bowl and her head resting against it. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks.

"You didn't know," Narcissa said softly when after a few minutes Hermione finally moved.

The brunette looked pale and it seemed as if she had suddenly aged beyond her time. Hermione lifted up her head enough to look at the older woman standing in the doorway of her bathroom. She didn't care that she looked like some pathetic heap of shit. She didn't even care that Narcissa had seen her in this fragile state. In fact, she didn't care about anything at all anymore.

"No." Her voice trembled and she pulled back her sleeve. The silver scars on her forearm spelled out the word mudblood in an almost childlike handwriting. "I remember this."

Narcissa flinched. The night at Malfoy Manor was one of the many memories from the way that haunted her till this very day. "I do too."

"Do you really think that if I had known that woman was Bellatrix, I would have slept with her?!"

"My sister always had her ways of intoxicating people," Narcissa answered. Her eyes met Hermione's. "Even those who despised her."

"This is the woman who killed Sirius!" Hermione spat and struggled to get back onto her feet. "The woman who tortured Neville's parents into insanity. The only person not to leave Azkaban having lost their mind because she had lost hers long before she even went in." She turned to look at herself in the mirror and felt sickened by her own reflection. "I _watched_ Molly Weasley kill her."

"You watched Molly Weasley kill the woman Bellatrix was until that day."

Slowly Hermione turned around. "You're saying there's a difference?"

"Bellatrix must have made her deal with Death sometime during that Battle," Narcissa said softly. "Do you remember Kingsley telling us where the Book was found?"

"The Forbidden Forest."

"We were there," Narcissa said. "Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. You know we were there."

Hermione took a step towards Narcissa. "Is that when you knew?"

The blonde witch blinked. "What?"

"When Kingsley said the Book had been found in the Forbidden Forest, was that when you knew that Bellatrix had used the spell?" Hermione asked and she watched how an unexpected emotion crept into Narcissa's eyes. Never before had she seen remorse or guilt etched across someone's face in such a way. "You did, didn't you? You knew Bellatrix had done something but you didn't know what…"

"When I came to claim her body, there wasn't one," Narcissa said softly. "The Ministry insisted they hadn't cremated her or thrown her into a mass grave with the other Death Eaters. I didn't believe them at first but Kingsley gave me his word. I then just assumed that someone had taken her body and destroyed it anyway." She peered up at Hermione through her eyelashes. "My sister was hated by many people."

"You don't say."

Narcissa heaved a sigh. "After a few weeks I began to suspect she wasn't dead. Or at least, not in the way people thought she was."

"Why?"

When Narcissa didn't answer Hermione closed the distance between them and grabbed the older woman's upper arms. The grip was firm and tight and both women knew that it would leave bruises by morning. Hermione released her hold but Narcissa didn't step away. Instead Narcissa's blue eyes pierced into Hermione's hazel ones and the soft features of her face hardened.

"Three weeks after the Final Battle, a single red rose arrived."

Hermione frowned. "What's so special about that?"

"In all the years we were married, Lucius never sent me flowers. Besides, he was locked up in Azkaban. There was only one person who ever sent me roses. Once a year, on my birthday. A single red rose every time. Nobody knew about it."

"Bellatrix."

Narcissa nodded. "That's when I understood something happened. Something that shouldn't have happened. I tried looking into what she could have done but I never found what I was looking for. Until Kingsley told me about the Book."

"Is that why I saw you that night?" Hermione asked. "At Imagine. Was that why you were there?"

"Yes," Narcissa answered. "Imagine has long been a place where those who do not want to be seen or found to go to, shall we say, enjoy themselves. It opened in the months leading up to the Battle. There was one rule: you don't ask questions. When you step inside, everything you are just disappears. Even those who hate each other look into each other's eyes but behind a mask, everyone's a stranger." She sighed. "If there is one place you go when you can't show your face but you still want to be part of the living world somehow, Imagine is the place to go."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. She remembered her first visit to Imagine. The aching desire between her legs when she first laid eyes on the dark haired stranger. Never before had just a single glance stirred such feelings inside of her. The knowledge that those charcoal eyes belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange now sickened her but at the same time it did nothing to erase those very first feelings. When her eyes opened again they had darkened a little and when she looked up at Narcissa she knew that she could tell.

The blonde witch cocked her head. "It hasn't changed anything for you, has it?"

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Something lured you out there that night. That same something kept begging you to come back." Narcissa's voice dropped down to a whisper and suddenly her breath was warm against Hermione's cheek. She moved closer until her body was pressed against Hermione's and she felt the heat radiate from her skin. "Something in those shadows brought you back again and again. My sister trapped you, stirred something inside of you…" Dark red lips were close to Hermione's ear. "Nothing's changed."

"No!" Hermione snapped and pushed Narcissa away from her. "You have no right to talk to me that way!"

The older witch grinned almost deviously. "Oh, but I do, Miss Granger. I saw the way you looked at her tonight. You can't deny what lives inside you."

"Get out!" Hermione hissed and her hand shot down to her wand. She yanked it out of her pocket and forced it into Narcissa's chest. "Get the hell out of my house and I swear to God, if I ever see you anywhere near me again, I'll kill you."

"You won't," Narcissa taunted her but she stepped backwards nevertheless.

She backed out further until she was halfway across the hall and turned around. She walked through the living room and didn't look back over her shoulder until she was about to step out of the front door. Hermione stood in the middle of the living room, wand drawn and eyes blazing. She watched as the blonde witch stepped outside into the night and disappeared. The sound of the door slamming behind her was deafening but then, after a few seconds, there was only silence.

Hermione let out a harrowing cry of pain, anger and frustration as she picked up a book and threw it across the room. It crashed into the wall, shattering one of the picture frames. The glass broke and shattered across the floor. She then dropped to the ground, her knees unable to support her weight any longer, and angry tears lashed across her cheeks. She cried like she had never cried before.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She had_ fucked_ Bellatrix Lestrange.

She'd allowed that lunatic, that monster, into her mind, into her pants, into her body. She'd allowed that devious woman to see her in a way nobody, not even Ron, had seen her. She had given into her hunger, her sickening desire, to have sex with a complete stranger. A stranger who turned out not to be a stranger at all. She had fallen into something that now slowly destroyed her from the inside out and Narcissa Black had known about it all along.

Hermione's head snapped up and suddenly the tears that had been burning behind her eyes stopped. She stood back up, grabbed her wand off the floor and stormed out of the door. It was still raining outside and the drops seeped behind her clothes and plastered her hair across her forehead. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran along the wet streets until she reached a quiet side road. She turned on the spot, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she reappeared halfway across town she was struck by how crowded it was. Blue and red flashing lights from police cars illuminated the London night, cutting through the darkness life knives. Uniformed officers inspected the broken windows with flashlights, took statements of onlookers and one officer released a dog that started sniffing along the buildings.

From where she stood, protected by the shadows of the alley, Hermione could see that the windows of Imagine were dark. The door was closed. There was no guard outside. The yellow streetlights only illuminated the faces of Muggles unfortunate enough to have wandered these streets shortly after the explosions that shattered the windows. A small crowd had formed behind the blue and white police tape that cordoned off the crime scene.

Hermione sighed in frustration and threw herself against the alley wall. Her plan to go back to Imagine and look for Bellatrix had been ruined. From the outside the building now looked like any other. Neglected and forlorn, as if nobody ever came here. She cast one look at the scene outside the bar before starting down the dark alley, her hand on her wand. The sound of her footsteps sounded hollow as in the distance the sound of thunder rumbled in the sky.

She didn't know why she had come back here, only that she had to. She needed to see, needed to know. She had to find an answer somehow, although she didn't quite know the question. Even now, with all the anger simmering underneath her skin, the desire still burnt deep inside her. A flame still flickered, slowly eating away at her, with the potential to cause a devastating fire she knew she would never be able to control.

She froze when she saw the outline of a figure through the heavy rain. On the other side of the alley, briefly lit up by the headlights of a passing taxi, stood a slender figure dressed in black. Even from where she was standing Hermione recognised the glimmer of light reflecting in the silver mask. She increased her pace, her hands clenched into fists. The rain splashed into her face, her eyes, but she kept walking. She was only a few steps away when the masked stranger vanished.

Hermione increased her pace and turned the corner. The street was abandoned apart from a few parked cars. Across the road lay the entrance to a small park. The gate was open and moved slightly. It had only recently been touched. Hermione ran across the street, kicked against the gate and stepped into the park. The trees were tall, hiding almost all of the lights from the few streetlamps. A park bench to her right, two more to her left. The heavy wind rustled the leaves and branches.

From the corner of her eye she spotted movement and turned, her wand now drawn, and her breath chocked in the back of her throat when from behind the large oak tree, the masked stranger appeared. It was only now that she laid eyes on her with new knowledge for the first time that Hermione immediately recognised Bellatrix Lestrange. To her surprise her heart didn't break. It cried.

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione swallowed. "You know who I am," she said slowly and lowered her wand. "You have known ever since the beginning, I know you have." She took a step closer. The only thing separating them now was the park bench. Their eyes found each other. "I know who you are."

"What?!"

"I know who you are," Hermione said and felt a tear slide down her cheek. "And I still came back for you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The rain poured down on them relentlessly. Against the dark backdrop of the night they looked like nothing more than lost, forgotten shapes cut out of the darkness, lit up only by the faint golden glow of a streetlamp. They were strangers staring at each other, perhaps seeing each other for the first time with brand new eyes, yet facing the question about who it really was they were looking at. A twisted madwoman behind a silver mask whose black eyes could destroy a person's soul with just a simple glare and a lost young woman who had fled from her home out into the rain looking for something she didn't even really understood.

"You knew who I was all along, didn't you?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling. The rain had drenched her clothes and now started to numb her bones. She was shivering. She swallowed hard, the name she was about to speak out loud now lying on her lips. "Bellatrix."

"What's it to you?" Bellatrix bit back with distinct venom in her voice.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You, the greatest and most loyal Death Eater of all," she said and she was unable to hide the disdain in her words after the way Bellatrix spoke to her. "Lusting after a _Mudblood_."

There was a silence. They sized each other up as if to test and challenge how far the other was willing to go. Hermione's grip on her wand tightened when she noticed Bellatrix's fingers twitched. She didn't know how much or what kind of magic the dark haired woman still possessed or even if she still had a wand, but she had to assume that Bellatrix was still as dangerous as before.

"Why did you come here?" Bellatrix unexpectedly asked.

"I came looking for you."

"I figured that out one myself, thank you. Why?"

"I don't know."

Hermione really didn't know. She didn't know what had made her leave the safety of her flat to come out here, in some part of London she rarely frequented. She remembered Narcissa leaving after telling her that the woman behind the mask was really Bellatrix and her eyes fell shut as she saw herself again sitting on her knees beside the toilet, puking her guts up. She took a ragged breath. In her chest her heart felt like it was about to explode.

"How did you know?"

Bellatrix's voice was so much closer now and when Hermione opened her eyes she found the raven haired woman standing right in front of her. Intense black eyes pierced into hazel brown from behind the mask. In a flash Hermione realised just how much the mask made Bellatrix look like a Death Eater. There was something haunting about it; even more so now that she knew that it could not be removed. She wondered about the face that lay hidden behind it and if it even still existed.

Hermione swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat away. "Your sister… Narcissa." She watched the fire ignite in Bellatrix's eyes and knew she had touched on something. "She told me."

"My sister is a coward and a whore," Bellatrix hissed and Hermione had to hold back her answer that the circumstances under which she and Bellatrix had met made whores out of both of them.

Unexpectedly Hermione reached out her hand and touched Bellatrix's arm. The touch surprised both of them and Bellatrix staggered backwards, away from her. There was a flash of fear behind her eyes before she looked back up at Hermione. Now that she was standing in the shadow of the tall oak tree, her mask was almost invisible. For a short moment Hermione was allowed to remember what Bellatrix had looked like all those years ago. Evil had never been so beautiful.

"Why me?" Hermione wanted to know. "Why seek out me?" Without hesitation she pulled back her sleeve and showed Bellatrix the scars on her forearm. The anger suddenly roared in the pit of her stomach and blazing eyes snapped up. "This is what you think of me, isn't it? Is that how you think of me still? Am I just a toy to you? Something you can pick up and throw away whenever you feel like it?"

"You were never worthy of anything," Bellatrix hissed.

"Really?" Hermione countered. "Because that's not the impression I got the night we…"

"We?" Bellatrix interrupted her, suppressing a throaty chuckle. "Oh, there is no 'we' in this, love. There is only 'I' and I am doing what needs to be done."

"What?!" Angry tears burnt behind Hermione's eyes. "You _used_ me?"

Bellatrix now openly laughed and pushed herself away from the tree. She took two steps and held still right in front of Hermione. A pale hand slipped under the brunette's chin, forcing her to look at her. Hermione saw the lust glisten in Bellatrix's eyes before it subsided and only emptiness remained. The grip of the older woman on her chin was strong and painful yet she did not protest. The fire inside her body stirred again and she felt the desire she had felt every other time she laid eyes on Bellatrix.

"What, did you actually think someone like me would feel anything for someone like you?" Bellatrix spat. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and wet her ruby red lips. "I am not my sister, you filthy little Mudblood."

She let go of Hermione's chin and pushed her away with such force that Hermione almost stumbled into the mud. The brunette's angry eyes fixed on the masked woman's face as she managed to stay on her feet and she unexpectedly closed the distance between them. Strong hands grabbed a firm hold of Bellatrix and forced her backwards against the tree, her back slamming into the bark. Her fingers closed around Bellatrix's wrists so tightly that she knew she would leave bruises. Neither of them cared.

"You said you couldn't allow yourself to feel anything," she whispered into Bellatrix's ear, her breath hot against the former Death Eater's neck. "But you allowed me to feel you." Warm lips kissed wet skin and she could feel the unexpected adrenaline rush through Bellatrix's veins as the pulse point beneath the tip of her tongue began to race.

Hermione crashed her mouth against Bellatrix's. She felt her lover's breath hitch and slowly eased her grip on her wrists once she felt reassured Bellatrix wasn't going to push her away. She moaned softly into her lover's throat when she felt Bellatrix's fingers thread through her wet hair, pulling her deeper into the already searing kiss. Her own hands carefully yet insistently travelled up along Bellatrix's arms to her shoulders before sliding down again until they reached the buttons on her trousers. Without warning Hermione undid them and opened her eyes just in time to see Bellatrix do the same.

"Now we'll see if you really don't want to feel this," she whispered as began peeling the tight, wet fabric down Bellatrix's thighs to give herself enough room to work with. There was a teasing glint in her eye and when Bellatrix's fingers closed around her wrist just before her hand slid down across her stomach she merely arched an eyebrow before leaning in and kissing her just below the mask and trailing her lips down across her jawline to the corner of her mouth.

"You can't deny me," Hermione said softly when Bellatrix involuntarily arched her back into the touch. "All of this… you try to fight it but you know this is what you want. You want me." She grinned almost deviously. "The dirty little Mudblood, wanted by a Death Eater."

And with those words she dipped her hand behind Bellatrix's trousers and hooked two fingers behind her laced underwear. What she encountered was a warm wetness that was ready for her touch. Bellatrix didn't even try to stop her and her head fell back against the tree as Hermione slipped two fingers deep inside of her. She allowed the older woman a moment to get used to the feeling before picking up a fast and almost frantic rhythm.

Hermione didn't think. She didn't think about any of it. She just felt and she acted on those feelings. She acted on the way her heart had somehow drawn her here tonight, for reasons she didn't understand. There was a time to ask questions and seek answers but this was not that time. Right now, in this moment, there was only her and Bellatrix. Two people who were so different but were somehow brought together. And when her lust filled eyes watched as the ragged breaths rolled from the masked woman's lips, Hermione didn't even give a fuck about who she was.

Bellatrix's mouth fell open in a silent plea and the dark eyes behind the mask suddenly rolled back into her head. There was no sound. There was only the unexpected shuddering of her body as the first waves of her orgasm hit her, cutting through her like a knife that left her heart to bleed. Arms slipped around Hermione's neck without warning, pulling her closer until she rested against Bellatrix's body. She felt her heart jump in her chest, felt the other woman's desperate attempts for air against her neck. Soft lips pressed against her forehead.

A few quiet moments passed in which there was nothing but the sound and the feeling of the rain against their skin. They didn't move. Two bodies pressed together, foreheads resting against each other, and hands on each other's hips. To an unsuspecting stranger who couldn't see their faces they may have looked like lovers enjoying a moment of romance in the rain.

But then it ended.

Hermione felt Bellatrix move but by the time she had lifted up her head, she was already alone. All she felt was the bitter cold wind whip around her face, cutting through her. She hadn't even recognised the feeling of Bellatrix Dissaparating but suddenly her hands were empty and her heart was too.

Tears slid down her cheek when she turned on the spot and reappeared a couple of streets away from her flat. She ran the last few metres home, slammed the door behind her and walked into the living room whilst shrugging herself out of her wet clothes. She didn't switch the lights on but turned to the window to draw the curtains when a bright flash of lightning cut across the ink black sky. In that moment she caught a glimpse of the silver masked woman standing across the street looking up at her and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. When the next flash came, she was gone.

With a heavy heart Hermione drew the curtains and, wearing only her underwear, she walked to the bathroom. As her fingers grazed the doorframe she felt a shudder creep down her spine and she remembered Narcissa standing in the same spot, watching her. She swallowed, shook her head in an attempt to erase the image and stepped into the shower.

The warm water rained down on her, slowly erasing the cold numb feeling from her bones. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as the water streamed across her face. In her mind she saw Bellatrix again, emerging from the shadow of the tree. Hearing the woman speak words of rejection made her heart and soul ache but at the same time it stirred something inside of her she had never experienced before; a kind of jealousy that was unlike anything she had felt before. She wasn't jealous of another person but she still felt it. A resentment.

She scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw before eventually stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her and walking back into the living room. She stood by the window for ages hoping, praying, she would see Bellatrix again. The longer she stood in front of the glass staring out into the darkness she began to understand what had driven her out into the rain tonight. She knew why she had gone looking for Bellatrix. She wanted to find her; she needed to find her. It was the same reason why she had gone back to Imagine every time, lured in by the toxic passion and twisted desire.

By the time she finally went to bed, the first rays of sunshine were already climbing over the horizon and she never really got any sleep. She lay in the cold, empty bed with the sheets kicked towards the side, piled up in a mess. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her hands folded beneath her head. In her chest her heart beat slowly, every second a reminder that it was beating for only one reason. The reason she had walked out into the night, into the rain.

~()~

The coffee bar in Kensington was crammed full with young professionals on their lunch break. Guys in suits and women in pencil skirts with smart phones, designer handbags and tripple shot lattes and espressos in front of them talking about the byssiness of the day or the dates they had over the weekend.

Hermione watched them from the corner of her eye, her hands clutching her mug of coffee. The sound of phones bleeping and people talking was strangely soothing. Sometimes she really liked to submerge herself inside the Muggleword. It kept her grounded, reminded her where she came from. Whenever she wanted to get away from magic, this was the kind of place she went. Everybody here was so normal.

"I was a little surprised to receive your owl," Andromeda said, her eyes fixed on Hermione. She'd noticed the absent look in the brunette's eyes ever since they sat down. "You said you wanted to talk."

"I do," Hermione said as she tore her eyes away from the Muggles surrounding them and looked back at Andromeda. The resemblance was striking but only for a second. That was all it took for the light to rob Andromeda of any similarities she shared with Bellatrix.

Andromeda watched Hermione as her fingers played with her coffee mug. She and Hermione weren't exactly friends. They talked, mostly at family gatherings at the Burrow. A few days earlier Hermione had unexpectedly invited her for coffee and she had accepted, sensing there was something she wanted to talk about that she didn't feel comfortable sharing with any of the Weasleys. It turned out that Hermione had some doubts about her relationship with Ron and Andromeda had been her only safe haven to talk about it.

"Is it about Ron?" Andromeda asked.

Hermione sighed. "Everything is always about Ron." She chewed the inside of her cheek before meeting Andromeda's eyes. "I asked him to leave."

Andromeda's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Hermione answered with a shy smile. "I can't actually believe I did but I just didn't know what else to do anymore. I just… I just can't keep doing this all the time."

"But why, Hermione?" Andromeda pressed. "I thought you loved him."

"I thought so too but recently I am not so certain anymore. I don't think he is either. I don't doubt he loves me but I think he also knows I am not sure about any of this the way I once was," Hermione said and sipped from her coffee. "We both work long hours. We didn't see each other half as much as a couple should see each other and even when we did, we lived different lives." She looked down at the table. "I think it's for the best."

Andromeda leant back in her comfortable leather seat. They were sitting in the back of the shop where a leather sofa and two arm chairs had been placed around a wooden table. Her eyes danced across Hermione's face. She'd noticed the dark rings around her eyes as soon as she walked into the bar. Hermione looked pale and tired, like she hadn't slept for some time. The last time she had seen anyone look this gaunt was during the war.

"Have you spoken to Harry about this?"

Hermione shook her head. "He and Ginny are too busy planning their wedding. Besides, I don't want to rain on their parade."

"You will be going to the wedding, won't you?"

"Harry would Avada Kedavra the living daylights out of me if I didn't," Hermione smiled. The smile never quite reached her eyes.

Andromeda put her cup down and leant in. "Listen, Hermione, feel free to tell me to back off but I can't help but notice that you look tired. Are you sure there's nothing else going on?"

"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about." Hermione looked down at her hands. "Kingsley made me work alongside your sister and she's been pressing my buttons."

"Narcissa? Kingsley has you working with Narcissa?" Andromeda asked and Hermione nodded. "Whatever for? Surely he knows the history between you two?!"

"I can't tell you exactly what it is we're doing but I can tell you that she may have changed her name, she definitely hasn't changed her attitude."

"Still the Ice Queen then, huh?"

Hermione knew Andromeda and Narcissa hadn't spoken to each other for years. Even after the War ended and Lucius was sent to prison, it seemed the damage done to their relationship was irreparable. Neither sister ever mentioned the other's name.

"Very much so," Hermione affirmed and bit back the emotions that riled up inside her. "Nothing's changed with her."

"I would have been more surprised if they had." Andromeda brushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes. "Is she pressuring you?"

"No more than I pressure myself." Hermione smiled and masked her sudden insecurities with a false mask of confidence. "I can handle your sister, Andy."

Andromeda decided it was best not to press the issue. She and Narcissa had drifted apart a lonhg time ago and she didn't think they would ever come to a point where they would be able to move on from the past. With a last thought of regret she stored the image of Narcissa into the back of her mind and looked back at Hermione. The look in her eyes was distant.

"So, since we're in the middle of London…," she began, "there are a couple of things I need to pick up for Teddy. Would you like to accompany me to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled and sat up. Going to Diagon Alley was normal. She was in the mood for normal. She needed normal, something as far away from all the craziness as she could possibly think of. She finished off her coffee and put the mug down before picking up her handbag and standing up.

"Shall we?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

She returned from Diagon Alley late in the afternoon carrying two bags of shopping. Hermione had bought herself some new books, one on Ancient Magic that caused Andromeda to raise her eyebrows when she flicked through it and saw just how dark the magic described was, and one on myths about Death. When Andromeda asked why she needed books like this, Hermione reminded her that she was working with Narcissa on the project given to them by Kingsley and she couldn't say anything else but she did notice that from that moment on, Andromeda gave her sideways glances a little more often.

Now that she closed the door to her flat behind her Hermione could finally breathe a sigh of relief. She threw her bags onto the sofa, kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her coat. She then walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it in one go. Her eyes were peeled on the kitchen window and it was only then that she noticed the owl sitting on the window sill outside.

Hermione quickly opened the window and let the bird in. A piece of parchment was strapped to its paw and she carefully removed it before giving the owl some water. She unrolled the letter and recognised Ron's messy handwriting.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I don't know how you will feel when you receive this letter but I just want you to know that, when you're ready, I am willing to give our marriage a second chance. I've done a lot of thinking and I know I haven't always been the best husband to you but I really think that I can change. Why don't you come over to Mum and Dad's this weekend and we can talk?_

_Love,_  
_Ron._

Hermione sighed and left the letter on the window sill. She had hoped Ron would say that he was ready to go separate ways but it seemed that he had different thoughts. She really didn't want to go and see him, and she definitely didn't want to talk. She turned on her heel and walked back into the living room. She grabbed the bag containing her new books and sat down. She opened the first book, Ancient Magic of Our World, and started reading.

It was dark by the time she put the book down. She was about half way through but she had struggled to keep her concentration. Every few minutes her mind was taken back to the moment in the park, Bellatrix's wet body against hers. She could still smell her, taste her, feel her. Nothing she did was able to erase those images from her mind. She didn't want to. She kept calling them back up, playing them over and over again in her head.

It was almost midnight when Hermione stood up. Instead of walking to the bedroom she went to the front door, put her coat back ion and stepped outside. It had stopped raining but the streets were wet and a cold wind pulled at her hair. The streets were quirt at this time, there was nobody else around. She turned on the spot after calling up the image of a place she believed she would never return to and when she opened her eyes she found herself standing in the Wiltshire countryside, looking up at Malfoy Manor.

After Lucius has been imprisoned, Narcissa had divorced her husband and shed his last night but she had claimed the Manor. It had undergone a transformation over the last three years in an attempt to rid it of its horrible and haunted reputation. As Hermione approached the gates they swung open and she slowly started up the long gravelled path that led to the oak front doors.

They opened before she had a chance to knock and Hermione's breath hitched as she stepped into the entrance hall. She had vivid memories of the night she first came here, held prisoner by Death Eaters and met by Bellatrix Lestrange. It was the night Bellatrix had carved the word mudblood into her arm and tortured her within an inch of her life. It was the same night her life changed; after that night nothing would ever be the same again.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," spoke a woman's voice and Hermione turned around towards the staircase. Narcissa stood at the top, dressed in a pair of cobalt blue robes. Her blonde hair fell freely down her shoulders and her intense eyes were fixed on the brunette standing in the hall. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I need to talk to you," Hermione answered, unable to hide the tremor in her voice.

Narcissa strode gracefully down the staircase, her fingers trailing over the ivory bannister. She never took her eyes off Hermione and the corners of her mouth twitched, hinting at a disdainful smile. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I seem to remember that the last time we were in each other's company, you told me to get out before you'd kill me."

"I'm not saying I won't," Hermione replied sharply, reminding Narcissa that their disagreement was not yet a thing of the past. "But Kingsley did put us together and you are the only one I can talk to."

Narcissa had reached the bottom step and her eyes now curiously swept over Hermione's frame, lingering a moment too long on her figure hugging jeans. "Very well," she conceded and gestured towards the sitting room. "If you'd be so kind…"

She went ahead into the large room. The high ceilings were decorated with Victorian style roses and, since Lucius had moved out, had been painted from black to white. The black marble floors had been replaced for dark wooden floorboards. All of the Malfoy family paintings had been taken down and the heavy black curtains that had once decorated the windows were gone too. The high windows were now obscured by velvet white curtains and Hermione could feel the transformation as she walked into the room.

Her eyes were drawn to the large fireplace. Flames were dancing away, eating at heavy logs of wood. The warmth was a welcome feeling and she accepted Narcissa's offer to sit down in one of the arm chairs. She cast the blonde witch a sideways look. In the golden glow of the fire Narcissa looked so much younger and almost fragile. Any resemblance to her sister had been robbed away.

"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?" Narcissa asked, folding her hands into her lap.

"The spell Bellatrix performed," Hermione began. "I need to know how it can be undone."

Narcissa's blue eyes searched Hermione's face in an attempt to understand why she would ask this question. "My dear, it can't be undone."

"But that's not true, is it?" Hermione said and from the way Narcissa's pupils unexpectedly dilated she knew she was right. She scooted forward into her seat. "There is a way to make the spell come undone."

Narcissa heaved a sigh. "There is but it is impossible,_ especially_ in my sister's case."

"Because to make the spell come undone, the person who cast it has to undone what they have done themselves," Hermione said and she watched Narcissa's face as her features softened. "The only way for someone to persuade Death to give back their freedom and their life before the spell, they have to give Death something else in return."

"Forgiveness." Narcissa said it so quietly that Hermione could barely hear her. "To undo the spell, the person who cast the spell must find forgiveness of those they have hurt throughout their life." Intense blue eyes swept over Hermione's face and she shook her head. "How did you know? That part of the spell is not mentioned anywhere."

"It's not about what I know, it's about what Bellatrix knows."

Narcissa suddenly stood up. "You think that's what this is? You think that whatever happened between you and Bellatrix…" She couldn't bring herself to say the rest of the sentence out loud. She turned to Hermione, a mixture of anger and disbelief flickering behind her eyes. "You think she did that because she is looking for your forgiveness?"

Hermione averted her eyes, unable to bear Narcissa's gaze any longer. She didn't regret shouting at her the day before but she did regret coming here tonight. "She said she did what needed to be done."

Narcissa frowned. "You saw her?" She walked over to Hermione and held still in front of her. Her hand shot out and she grabbed Hermione's chin, forcing her to look up at her. The younger witch rebelliously pulled free but blazing eyes met Narcissa's cool ones. "When did you see her?!"

"Last night," Hermione answered.

"How?" Narcissa breathed. "How did you find her?"

"I went back to Imagine. I tracked her down." Hermione shrugged. "It wasn't hard."

"Hermione, I have been trying to find Bellatrix for months. Even while we were in the same building I never managed to find her!" Narcissa exclaimed and she dropped down to her knees before Hermione and took her hands into her own. There was despair etched across her face and Hermione was surprised to see Narcissa kneel down in front of her. Narcissa's eyes held Hermione's and she brought Hermione's hands up to her face before pleading, "Listen to me when I say that this is _never _going to happen. Bellatrix is never going to get her life back. She is never going to be normal."

"Who said I expected her to be normal?"

"Don't treat me like a fool. I can see what happened. My sister used you for her own gain. That's what she does. Bellatrix has always used people for her own benefit. Everything she ever did was just for her own gain. Don't believe, not for a moment, that my sister has feelings for you. She is dead, Hermione. She cannot feel."

"And what if I believe you're wrong?"

"Then you're risking your own life as well as the lives of everyone who ever meant anything to you."

Hermione cocked her head. "Including you?"

Narcissa pulled her hands away from Hermione and stood up. She turned her back on her and strode over to the fireplace. She pensively stared into the flames. "Probably," she answered. "Though I do not expect you to care."

"You know I can't keep doing this, don't you?" Hermione asked. "I can't do what Kingsley asked of us."

"Then you tell him you refuse to do your job," Narcissa answered bitterly. "Because I won't."

"What is wrong with you?" Hermione asked and she stood up too. Her eyes pierced into Narcissa's back. "Don't you realise there is a chance you could have your sister back?"

Narcissa spun around, tears glistening in her eyes. "Have you ever thought about the possibility that maybe I do not want her back?" She fought against her tears but lost and a lonely drop trickled down her cheek. "My sister is dead, Hermione, and I would like for it to stay that way because nothing good ever came from her being alive."

Hermione stared at Narcissa and in that instant she realised she had walked into something that went far deeper than the eye could see. She'd heard the stories about the Black family when she was still at Hogwarts. Sirius had told Harry how most of his family had been into the Dark Arts and that Bellatrix and her sisters never stood much of a chance with a dad like Cygnus. When Bellatrix became a Death Eater, nobody was surprised. Andromeda ran away and Narcissa….

"You were the one that was left behind." The worlds rolled off her tongue with surprising ease and she watched how Narcissa's face changed into a mask of pain. "Sirius was right. You never stood a chance. Bellatrix abandoned you and Andromeda abandoned you too." She took a step closer to Narcissa. "What did she do that makes you so desperate?"

"It's none of your business," Narcissa snapped unexpectedly and the moment between them was broken. "Just think about what you're stirring up if you decide to change this crazy obsession of yours. Bellatrix is never going to change."

"Is that why you haven't told Kingsley that you know someone actually used the spell?" Hermione asked. "You knew long before I did. All you had to do was tell him. I'm sure the Aurors would have tracked her down by now. Why didn't you?"

"I…" Narcissa began but her voice trailed off.

"You couldn't."

"He wouldn't have believed me anyway," Narcissa sneered. "I didn't see the point of trying to convince the Minster of Magic that Bellatrix was still out there."

Hermione shook her head. "You were afraid. You were afraid that he would believe you and that he would find Bellatrix. You didn't want him to find her and you didn't want me to find her either. Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters enough for you to try and tell me to walk away."

"Just do that. Just walk away. Do us all a favour and forget this ever happened. Go to Kingsley and tell him we couldn't find anything. Then all of this will be over and we can go back to living our lives."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You know that I _will _find out what you're hiding, Narcissa."

Narcissa's eyes darkened and she stepped closer to Hermione. Her voice was dangerously low. "You watch your step, Miss Granger, because I am not the type of person you would want as your enemy." She lifted up her chin with pride and confidence. "You will never win."

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she turned around and walked out of the sitting room, leaving the doors wide open in her wake. She stepped out into the cold, rainy night and turned on the spot before she had even reached the last of the steps leading to the gravelled path. By the time Narcissa had reached the front door in a desperate bid to call her back, Hermione was already gone.

~()~

Hermione walked into her office just before nine o'clock the next morning. She was tired. After her visit to Narcissa she hadn't slept much. She'd spent the remainder of the night reading both the books she had bought the previous day. Her body ached and cried out for sleep but she would have to keep herself awake with a copious amount of coffee.

She'd only just reached her desk and sank down in her chair when there was a knock on her door. When she looked up she found Kingsley stepping into her office. He closed the door behind him and walked across the room until he reached the two chairs across her desk. Hermione made an informal hand gesture and he sat down.

"Good morning Kingsley," she said with a smile. "How can I help you?"

"I had a visitor earlier this morning," Kingsley said and he pressed his fingertips together. His dark eyes were fixed on Hermione. "Narcissa Black."

Hermione sat bolt upright and her heart skipped a beat. Adrenaline suddenly rushed through her veins and she mentally told herself to stay calm. "Oh," she said neutrally. "I wasn't aware we were due a briefing on our investigation so far."

"Neither was I," Kingsley answered and his dark eyes searched Hermione's face. "But Miss Black informed me that so far you two have been unable to identify anything associated with the Book of the Dead. She says that there is no evidence anyone used the spell recently but she does recommend the book is locked safely in one of the Ministry's vaults, away from possible prying eyes."

Hermione's breath hitched. "Miss Black is right," she answered. "So far we have found nothing. I didn't know exactly what we were looking for but I am satisfied that the Book isn't currently a threat for our society which doesn't mean that, in the wrong hands, it wouldn't be."

"Listen Hermione, I know it was a lot to ask of you to work with Narcissa. I know you two have history, especially concerning her sister, but I need you to understand that I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you two were a great magical match," Kingsley said. "Her magic is unprecedented and your skills are highly valued. You make a great team."

"You're making it sound like you want us to work together on future projects," Hermione pointed out, hoping deep down that she was wrong.

"Only if you were to be willing."

"Narcissa and I have our differences, sir," Hermione answered, leaving it up to Kingsley to interpret just how their relationship worked. "It took quite a bit of composure from both our sides to tolerate the other's company."

"Very well," Kingsley said and he stood up. "For now your working relationship with Miss Black has come to an end. She made sure to mention that she enjoyed working with you and is looking forward to spending more time in your company during future assignments."

"Duly noted," Hermione answered as she bit back the venom in her voice. Narcissa had gone to Kingsley behind her back. She managed to appear calm when she was reeling inside. She forced herself to smile. The words she spoke tasted bitter on her tongue but she spoke them anyway. "I look forward to it."

"I shall leave you to the business of your day," Kingsley said as he turned around in the doorway. "Thank you, Hermione."

She merely smiled as he left and once he was gone she slammed her fist onto her desk with such force that the pain was blinding. In her chest her heart felt like it was about to explode and after a few minutes she got up, walked out of her office and found her secretary Susanna sitting at her desk down the hall. The young girl looked up when Hermione approached.

"Anything you need, Miss Granger?" she asked.

"No, thank you, Susanna," Hermione answered. "I'm afraid I have to leave. Can you see to it all appointments are rescheduled for later this week?" The girl nodded. "Oh and send an owl to my husband telling him I'll be meeting him at his parents' on Sunday." She swung her coat over her shoulders. "If anybody asks, I've been called out on a family emergency."

It was an emergency allright, Hermione thought as she walked out of the Ministry ten minutes later. Just not of the family kind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The rain came pouring down when she appeared outside of Malfoy Manor. Strands of brown hair were plastered across her face and her clothes clung to her body. She didn't wait for the gates to open and instead she flicked her wand forced the metal apart. The gravel snapped under her boots as she stormed across the drive to the front door. Another firm flick of her wand opened the heavy wooden front doors and Hermione stepped into the Manor's hallway. The sound of the doors opening echoed throughout the building and in the distance she recognised the sound of hurried footsteps. Narcissa appeared in the doorway of the dining room.

"What in Merlin's name…" Her voice faltered when she saw Hermione standing in the entrance hall, soaking wet. Blue eyes widened when she recognised the anger in her eyes. "Miss Granger."

"You and I need to talk," Hermione said sharply and crossed the hall towards the dining room. She grabbed Narcissa's arm and pulled her back inside. She shoved the older woman with such force that Narcissa bumped into the table and grabbed hold of it to remain on her feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Narcissa hissed. "How dare you walk into my house like this?"

"Shut up," Hermione snapped. "I spoke to Kingsley this morning. He told me what you told him." She watched how recognition dawned in Narcissa's eyes. "He told me that you believed there was no danger, that the Book was no threat. He also said that you think that nobody has used the spell. Why did you lie to him? Why didn't you tell him Bellatrix used it and is still out there?"

"Come on, Hermione. You and I both know that as soon as the Ministry finds out Bellatrix is still alive, they'll send out a hunting party that won't stop until they've found her. Do you really think they are just going to arrest her and lock her up in Azkaban?" Narcissa challenged. "Are you really that gullible?"

"Your sister is a monster and she deserves…"

"A monster that _you_ slept with!" Narcissa sneered. "Have you forgotten what you did, Hermione? You're way too deep into all of this! They'll soon find out that you kept going back to her." She took a step closer to the brunette. "Because that's what you did, isn't it? Even after you found out who she was you went looking for her." She held still in front of Hermione and cocked her head. "Did you _fuck _her again, Miss Granger?"

Her hand shot out so fast she barely had time to recognise what she was doing. She struck Narcissa across her cheek with such force that the blonde staggered backwards, clutching the side of her face. Surprised blue eyes fixed on Hermione and she saw the anger and the loathing. She chuckled softly. A deep, throaty chuckle that made Hermione's blood boil.

"She's never going to come back," Narcissa taunted. "She will always be a ghost, trapped between this world and the next. And you… you will always desire what you can never have. It will never change."

"No?" Hermione questioned, moving closer to Narcissa until she was so close she could feel the heat from her body. "Do you really believe that?"

"Bellatrix is lost. She will never be able to live again."

"Unless she is forgiven," Hermione reminded her and she pulled back the sleeve that covered her forearm. In the weak candlelight coming from the chandelier, the scars were almost invisible and Narcissa gasped. Hermione's lips curled up into a smile and she leaned closer, almost kissing Narcissa's ear. "_I forgive her."_

Narcissa grabbed Hermione's arm and inspected the scars. They had faded a lot since the last time she saw them and she looked up at the younger woman in disbelief. "Impossible."

"You never know what you're capable off until life forces you to see things differently," Hermione answered. She was still so close to Narcissa that she let her lips briefly brush against the blonde's neck and felt her shudder underneath the touch. The anger shot through her veins like poison, seeping into her heart. She couldn't deny all the things she felt anymore. She pressed a second warm, chaste kiss against Narcissa's neck, this time right on her pulse point. She felt her heartbeat against her lips.

"You may have forgiven her but the rest of this world will never see her for anything other than what she is; a monster," Narcissa breathed. Her fingers grabbed a firmer hold of the table she was leaning against; her body suddenly very aware of Hermione's being pressed against her. She felt the swell of the younger witch's breasts against her own, could smell the mixture of rain and perfume on her skin.

Hermione breathed in the scent of Narcissa's unexpected desire. Her own heart was hammering against her throat as she slowly realised she had Narcissa trapped between her body and the table. Her knee pressed against the blonde's legs, her hands were resting against the table, pinning her down. Her voice was only a whisper. "Be that as it may, it's a step in the direction of redeeming her soul."

"She is never going to find forgiveness," Narcissa whispered and turned her head slightly so that her mouth was close to Hermione's. "And neither will you."

Hermione leaned in, almost kissing Narcissa. She never once took her eyes off the older woman's face. "I don't need forgiveness."

"You will," Narcissa smiled deviously and moved one of her hands so that it covered Hermione's. The touch sparked an electric shock between them that made both their breath's hitch. "Once your friends and family discover what it is you have done."

"They'll never know," Hermione whispered and before Narcissa could move she withdrew her hand from the table and her arm unexpectedly wrapped around Narcissa's waist, taking a firm hold. "And you're not going to tell them." She smirked. "Even if you did, who would believe you?"

The back of Narcissa's throat became dry when Hermione leaned in and brushed their lips together. She breathed in her smell, the arousal and the tension. Every muscle in her body suddenly seemed so strain itself and she arched her back slightly. Hermione leaned against Narcissa with a little bit more force, sensing the building longing and desire. She felt it in her own body.

"You don't know what it is that I'm capable off," Hermione whispered as her hand shot up from Narcissa's back to her hair and pulled it, hard. The blonde's head was forced backwards, exposing the stunning lines of her neck and Hermione's warm lips travelled across the warm skin. Her teeth grazed across the pulse point and sank down into the soft flesh, eliciting an almost desperate moan from Narcissa. Narcissa's nails dug into the back of Hermione's hand so deeply that she drew blood.

"Oh but I do," Narcissa managed to bring out as Hermione withdrew herself from her neck and their gazes locked. Narcissa's blue eyes had darkened several shades and reflected an almost feral hunger. "For it is exactly the same as what I am capable off."

Hermione unexpectedly stepped away from Narcissa, severing the contact between them. Almost instantly her skin felt cold. She cocked her head a little, waiting to see if Narcissa would approach her. She saw the desire but the older woman understood her game better than Hermione had anticipated and did not move.

"You can't always have what you desire, Miss Granger," Narcissa spoke with a husky voice. "Sometimes that what we desire is what destroys us."

Hermione grinned. "Only if we let it."

She turned around and walked out of the dining room. She stepped back into the entrance hall and approached the wooden doors. They were still wide open and a small pool of rainwater had formed on the marble floor. She looked back over her shoulder to find Narcissa standing in the dining room doorway, her figure illuminated only by the candle light. The hunger in her eyes had not yet died. Hermione then tore her eyes away from the older woman and stepped back out into the pouring rain. She turned on the spot and Dissaparated.

When she reappeared she was standing not in the West End in London but in the countryside of Devon. On top of the hill stood a house where she had spent many of her school holidays and eventually more intimate family gatherings together with the Weasley family. The Burrow was a place where everybody was welcome but now that she walked the last few meters to the front door, Hermione felt apprehensive.

It wasn't raining here and she quickly uttered a few spells to dry herself. Within a few seconds her hair was dry and neatly bound back in a very lose bun and her clothes were no longer wet. The one thing she couldn't change was the raging hunger and desire left behind by her encounter with Narcissa and when she knocked the front door she silently wished nobody would answer.

Her hopes were shattered when the door opened and she looked up into the face of Molly Weasley, her mother-in-law. Molly's face lit up when she saw Hermione stand outside and quickly stepped aside so she could come in. Once Hermione had stepped into the kitchen Molly subjected her to one of her famous hugs that involved a person almost being squeezed to death. When she let go Molly searched Hermione's face.

"Are you here to talk to Ron?" she wanted to know.

Hermione didn't answer the question with a direct yes or no. "Is he in?"

"He's at work," Molly said. "Which is where I thought you would have been. Is everything allright?"

"Yeah," Hermione lied. "I just… I had to be out of the office for a few errands and I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I'd see if he was here." She stared down at the floor, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks. "Well, since he's not, I guess I'll leave you to it."

"Do you want some tea?" Molly offered. "You don't have to leave right away, dear."

"Listen, Molly, Ron's probably told you that things aren't exactly great between us right now and the last thing I want to do is force you to have to pick sides or feel like you need to mediate between us," Hermione said and looked at the Weasley matriarch. "I can't speak for Ron but truth be told, I don't believe there is any hope of saving our marriage. I just wanted him to hear it from me as soon as possible rather than him cherishing the feeling that maybe we still have some kind of chance." She sadly smiled. "Ron is a good man and he will make somebody a great husband but…. "

"Not you," Molly finished her sentence. She patted Hermione's hand. "I understand, dear. When Ron came here the other day, he didn't seem to have much hope himself that you could work things out but while he's been here he perked up a bit. I think you two really need to sit down and talk."

"I know," Hermione said. "And I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. These things happen. Rather now than when you have children, right?"

"I guess so." Hermione swallowed. "Would you mind asking him to come by the flat tonight? We can talk then. I'll wait for him."

"Of course, dear," Molly answered. "Now are you sure you don't want some tea?"

Hermione shook her head. "Thanks, Molly, but I really need to get back to work."

Molly walked her out and just before Hermione was about to turn on the spot she said, "Just because it didn't work out between you and Ron doesn't mean you're not welcome here anymore, Hermione. Our door is always open."

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes, summoning up the image of an alley not far from the Ministry of Magic. She felt the wind whip around her head as she lost contact with the ground beneath her feet and when she reopened her eyes she was standing in the City of London. She heard the cars in the distance and the sound of voices. She quickly made her way to the main entrance of the Ministry and walked towards one of the elevators that would take her back to her office. It was empty when she stepped aside and she heaved a sigh as she doors slid shut.

~()~

It was just after five when she got home. She'd left early, unable to focus on her work after her encounter with Narcissa and her chat with Molly Weasley. By four o'clock it felt like she was going insane. The walls were closing in on her and her mind kept replaying the events from the previous days over and over again in her head. The throbbing between her legs only grew stronger as she thought of her moments shared with Bellatrix. The mere thought of the masked raven haired woman set her skin on fire.

Hermione locked the door behind her, stripped off on her way to the bathroom and switched on the shower. She looked at herself in the mirror for a few seconds, confused by who or what it was she saw looking back at her, before stepping into the shower. The warm water was soothing against her skin and she tilted her head back as the water rushed through the valley between her breaths. The aching desire between her legs continued to burn and Hermione's right hand slid across her stomach towards her thighs.

Her left grazed over her swollen nipples, causing her to arch her back. Her hand continued to slide down further until it encountered the hot damp centre between her thighs. Two fingers eagerly and easily slid through the slick wetness that awaited her and slipped deep inside. Hermione's teeth sank down into her bottom lip as she began a quick, steady thrusting rhythm, pumping in and out of herself almost desperately. She could feel the release build up deep inside of her and she brought her left hand down to flick the bundle of nerves and her body quivered, her toes curling, and her back arched against the shower wall.

She imagined Bellatrix's body against the tree, her skin wet with rain. In her mind she heard the soft moans, the purrs of desire. She remembered the poisonous taste of her lips. Her mind then flashed to Narcissa's face, her blue eyes dark with hunger and the way her heart had felt beneath her lips. The throbbing between her legs only grew stronger and she forced herself back to Bellatrix and their very first, almost brutal encounter, in the toilet stalls of Imagine. Bellatrix's hands had between where her own fingers were now…deep inside…

She came with a mixed outcry of lust and pain. The orgasm shot through her like a knife and she dropped down to her knees, the water now pouring onto her back. Her thighs were slick and sticky with her own juices and her heart raced in her chest. She fought to catch every precious breath. When she eventually regained some control over her body she stood back up and washed herself down.

Hermione wrapped a towel around her body and walked from the bathroom to the bedroom. There she picked up a pair of jogging trousers and a black tank top. She brushed her hair, picked up her dirty washing and threw the items into the laundry basket. She then padded into the living room, sat down on the sofa and switched on the TV. She was about to put her feet up when there was a knock on the door. Hermione's eyes darted to the clock. It was half past five.

She stood up, walked into the hallway and opened the door, expecting to see Ron standing outside. She blinked a couple of times when she realised the person standing the streetlight wasn't her husband. Without hesitation Narcissa Black stepped into the narrow hallway, slammed the door behind her and pressed Hermione against the wall.

"You and I," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to Hermione's ear. "We need to talk."


End file.
